


Affinity

by WhelmedAsterMaster (charlion_em)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlion_em/pseuds/WhelmedAsterMaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is born with two marks. One matches their soulmate, and one matches their worst enemy. However, most people have no clue which is which. Tim does. Because his marks are the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time posting something for this ship- please let me know if I get anything incorrect. I think this is the first soulmate AU I've posted too... a lot of firsts for me.
> 
> This chapter much shorter than my normal chapter length... consider it more of a prologue to the action?
> 
> (Prompt is from reddit)

Dick wouldn't meet his eyes as he handed over another dose of pain meds.

Carefully, Tim sat up, mindful of his shoulder. Even the small movement hurt. Dick’s bed was much more comfortable than the ones in the cave. Maybe he should make an effort to crash at Dick’s apartment every time he got his ass beat.

“Thanks.” He swallowed the offered pills. “Has anyone heard from Hood?”

Dick tensed. “Did he do this?”

“No.” Tim reached for his bottle of water. “We were together at the docks.”

When Dick only blinked at him, his expression still stern, Tim offered more explanation. “Our cases crossed. Turned out we were after the same guy.”

“He didn't shoot your shoulder?” Dick closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Tim shook his head. “We have something of an understanding now.”

Dick opened his eyes. Tim didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on the marks on his forearms. If it were anyone else, Tim would feel self conscious about being this exposed. He'd managed to hide his soul marks from most of his friends, but Dick was the first in the Bat family to see them.

“He is dangerous.”

“So am I.”

“Tim. Open your eyes for once. He tried to kill you many times. Almost did! Or did you miss that tidbit of intel?”

Over the years, Tim had been accused of many things. They ranged from being too aloof, being too caring, focusing too much on his work. Once his parents accused him of not putting enough effort into his appearance.

Some accusations rang true. Tim would openly admit to most of them. He didn’t care about his appearance, at least not until he needed to look and act a certain way for _the job_. To many people, he was aloof, and to others he cared to the point of being overbearing.

But the one thing no one ever accused him of was being unobservant.

“Dick.” Tim could feel the pain meds begin to slow him down. He hated them, hated not being in control. “I'll be careful. Jason is an asshole, but he isn't trying to kill me anymore.”

Maybe he could be accused of being _too_ observant. He  _was_ that. But nothing would escape his scrutiny.

Not even his soul marks. Or the way Dick kept glancing at them.

“I know. Mine are weird. No, I don't want to talk about them.” Tim leaned back to his pillows.

Dick touched his own marks, one on each hip. Of course, Grayson would have them there. His were different, like most people's were. Tim had seen them once, when he first joined up with Batman. One of Dick’s was almost as intricate as his, the other was plain, like most in the world.

At first, Tim didn’t think much of his marks. No child really _cared_. Their parents did- would try to find their child's matches for them, to start them off knowing both their soulmate and soul enemy. But not Tim’s parents. And he was grateful they didn’t pay much attention to his, didn’t fawn over them like other parents.

“I have never seen them match before.” Dick frowned. “I guess…” He sighed, looking away. “I haven't found either of mine yet.”

“I haven't either.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Guess I really don’t want to. My greatest love and greatest enemy… the same person?”

“In a way, you're lucky. If I find a match, I'll have no way to know if they are my soulmate, or the civilian persona of some super villain.”

Most marks were different, matching them with two people. Tim’s marks looked the same. When he was old enough to realize this, he did as much research as a 4 year old could do. And he found some marks looked similar, but as the child grew, the marks stretched and would show their differences.

So, Tim didn’t worry. He didn't care much for love or hate at that age. But, when he was a teenager, he had to accepted they hadn't changed.

His marks were identical, and no amount of studying them found a difference. He exhausted his resources. Every microscopic scan proved what his eyes could see.

And Tim didn't know what it meant. Well, he _did_.

So, he hid them.

It was hard to hide marks on your forearms, but Tim managed. He was envious of those with easier to hide marks. Why couldn't his be on his leg, or back?

They were so intricate that it was easy to pass off if someone got a quick glance, to say they were just very similar. But, Dick had obviously been staring at them while he was sleeping.

“Does Bruce… has he seen them? Or Alfred?”

“No.” When he first joined up with Batman, he used the armor, the equipment, to hide them further. If Bruce ever noticed his marks, he didn't say anything. Then again, Bruce was in mourning when Tim put on the cape.

And so was Dick. And Alfred. It had been almost too easy to hide his marks from the greatest detectives in the league.

“Please, don't tell them. Bart and Gar are already a handful… always thinking up new theories.”

“What would you do if you met this person?”

“I hide them so I _won't_ meet them. If they don't have identical marks…”

Tim closed his eyes, moving his arms under the blanket. Enough scrutiny for one day. He didn't want to meet the love of his life, only to find out he was the other’s greatest enemy. That his love would be one sided. Or worse- fall in love with a bad guy!

“Tim…” Dick looked back to Tim’s marks. He opened his mouth again, but a knock at the bedroom door cut him off.

They both snapped the heads over to the open door. Jason leaned against the frame, his helmet clipped to his belt.

“Your security sucks,” Jason said in greeting. “Figured I'd drop by to see how Replacement is doing.”

“Jay…” Dick shot Tim a worried glance.

“Hey!” Jason pointed at Tim. “What did you tell him?”

“I-”

“He said you two were ‘getting along’.” Dick glared at Jason. “What are you really here for?”

Jason grinned, “I just thought I check in. Ya know, see how things are going. Maybe raid your kitchen.”

“The files are in my bag, Hood.” Tim motioned to the corner of the room. “Blue flash drive, middle pocket.”

“Thanks, Replacement.” He stuck his tongue out at Dick, “See, we can work together.”

Tim closed his eyes. “Just get it and go, Hood.”

“Fine. Geeze. I thought we had something good going.”

“ _Jason_.” Dick followed him, hovering close as he grabbed the drive from Tim’s bag.

“Chill.” He walked over to the bed, ignoring Dick for the moment. His eyes traced over Tim’s bandaged shoulder. “Hey… I'm, uh, sorry about not being there to back you up.”

Tim blinked. Jason _sounded_ sincere. An unprovoked apology? “I'm alive,” is all he could think to say.

Jason glanced back at the door. “Yea…”

“ _Jason_.”

He rolled his eyes and blew a puff of air up, sending the white of his banges flying. Tim took the moment to look at Jason. The only time he'd seen him this close was with the mask on. Maybe there was something more to Jason beyond the killing and the blind rage.

“Fine.” Jason turned around, “But I need a word with you.”

Dick agreed, eyeing Tim as he walked out the door.

Well. Tim sighed. GSW to the shoulder had a pretty long heal time. He was even lucky, it was a clean shot, no bone. Still, he was not looking forward to being sidelined to tech support for the next few months. He could feel the tug of sleep, his body urging him to rest more. To heal. It wasn’t like he could do much else, so he let himself be claimed by whatever dreams awaited him.

 

* * *

 

 

“You want me to what?” Dick ground his teeth. “You break into my apartment and start making demands?”

Jason held up his hands. “Not demanding. Look, I'm trying, alright? I want to be on good terms again.”

“B is wary. We all are.” But, Jason was family. If he was trying, really trying, maybe there was hope.

“So, let me prove I'm serious. Give Replacement the okay to keep working this case with me.”

Dick rubbed his temples. He'd forgotten how stubborn Jason was. “Just a few weeks ago you were trying to kill Tim. You still can't call him by his real name. Or his hero name.”

“And I apologized for trying to kill him. I've been trying. I- we- it works. I'll be nicer, I've already started earning his trust… I'm trying.” Jason turned away, staring at the bedroom door.

Dick sighed behind him. Maybe Jason was right. Maybe he could control the rage caused by the pit. But, it didn't change the mark on his arm. The one which matched both of Tim’s.

It was a testament to Tim’s skills that he was able to hide his soul marks this long. But, matching Jason? It made sense, in a twisted fate sort of way. And he wished he could tell Tim, but he would respect his wish to not know. At least for now. And Jason… Dick wasn't sure how he would react. It was probably better for them to continue down the road they were on for now.

An who knew? Maybe the worst part was behind them, and Tim could be happy with Jason.

“Just… be careful, Jay.”

“Hey, he's the one who ran off and got shot. But yea, I'll be careful with your precious baby bird.”

“Good.” The way Jason said it made Dick believe him. There was something else, an almost respect, in Jason’s voice. “Now, how did you get in here?”

“Oh, Dickie, and lose my all access pass?”

Dick gave Jason a lopsided smile. He was acting more and more like the old Jason. The trouble maker with too much brains and not enough sense. “I'll just give you a key.”

“Aww, that takes the sport out of it.” Jason complained to hide the sudden sting in his eyes. It was like he was welcome again.

Jason took one last look at the closed bedroom door. Getting his life back together suddenly became a priority.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please let me know what you think so far. I only have a loose outline, so feel free to send suggestions for the plot :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kon-El visits Tim while Jason tries to stay out of his own head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still the calm before the storm :3

Two days later, and Jason got exactly what he wanted. _More or less._

His cell rang, not something which happened often these days. Not to say many people called him before the whole _dying_ thing. Only a handful of people had this number, and only three people would bother. Roy was currently not speaking to him- long story, totally not his fault! Tim was probably still hopped up on painkillers. So that left…

“Hey, Dickie bird.”

“Jay.” Dick’s tone was calm, even. That meant no emergency. Oddly, that relaxed Jason. Huh.

“How's the kid?”

“Full of piss and vinegar that I won't let him work a case.” Dick sighed, and Jason could imagine him pacing around his kitchen. “And I can't watch him. Mind giving me a hand?”

Well then. Maybe his little speech about _trying_  and _caring_ actually paid off. He hadn’t expected it to- it was more of a hail mary.

“I'm not a babysitter.” As much as he would like to spend more time with Repla- _Tim_ \- playing bad cop wasn't going to win him any brownie points. In fact, it was a damn good way to push the guy over to the ‘don't talk to Jason Todd’ camp. That camp was where all the popular kids seemed to be hanging out these days. Not that he blamed them, he wished he didn't have to deal with himself most days.

“You said you were trying.” Dick’s exasperated voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He'd gotten better about straying too far down the rabbit hole of his mind. Not that he minded it sometimes. When you lived alone, worked alone, the only company was yourself. Sure, a book staved off the-

“ _Jason_.”

Oh, how he missed the way Dick and Bruce said his name when they were just _done_ with his shit but they needed something from him. It brought a rare smile to his lips.

“Fine. But I'm not-”

“Just come over. Same apartment.” The line went dead.

Did that fucker actually hang up? Jason had half a mind to not go. But he could use company, and Replc- Tim- was interesting. Plus, if they both went through the recovered files he could get back out to the streets that much quicker.

It didn’t take him long to get across town. He suspected the apartment was _actually_  just that, and not a random safe house. Why else have it in a swankier part of the city?

It took him no time to bypass the security, and Jason swung in through the window. “Honey, I'm home!”

Dick’s head poked out from the bathroom. “Use the damn front door. I have neighbors.”

“So, I charge by the hour, minimum of 3 hours. And there better be pizza money on the fridge.” He tossed his overnight bag to the couch.

“Enough jokes.”

Jason whistled. “Well, there must be something serious if the boy wonder himself doesn't want to banter.”

Dick walked into the living room, pulling a sweater over his Nightwing logo. “Undercover, I'll be gone a few days. Tim needs to take it easy- no moving that shoulder. He is more stubborn than you.”

“Going to call bull on that one.” Jason pursed his lips. “How long is a few days? And why me?”

Tim sulked into the room. “Because you're the only one available. Rest are going undercover. And I can't even help with recon-”

“Because we won't have our comms. External interfaces would-”

“Oookay.” Jason clapped his hands. He turned to tim, “How about you help me with my case instead? Let them play fast and loose.”

Dick turned his back on Tim. “For the record, you're not the only person available, just the only one he won't be able to manipulate into letting him into the field.”

“Grayson, I don't require a babysitter”

“Wow.” Dick’s eyebrows rose to his hairline as he turned back to Tim. “You sounded just like Damian. Please, don't- one of him is enough.”

Good old bat family tension. A revolving door of drama.

Why was he so desperately trying to be accepted by them? Maybe his head was still working against him. Then again, he did like the challenge.

“Anything else?” As much as he loved surprises, he'd rather be prepared on this one.

“Some titans might stop by. And no matter what they do or say, you stay here and so does Tim.”

Jason counted in his fingers as he read off his mental list: “Nosey friends. Don't let him move the shoulder. No field work. I'm assuming the kid can handle his meds. Anything else? Don't feed after midnight?”

“Thank you for the assist on this.” Dick gave him a constipated looking smile and grabbed his bag of gear.

And with that, Dick was out the door and on his way to whatever secret mission Bruce had him on this time.

That left just him and Tim. Well, let the boredom commence.

He glanced over to the fridge. “Aww, your mom forgot to leave Pizza money.”

Tim ignored the comment. “Well, this has been a boring few days. So, I'm just going to head back to the tower if it is all the same to you.”

Jason gave Tim a quick once over. Huh, without the gear, he was much smaller. It didn't help that Dick’s shirt was far too large and hung loosely over his form. It caught him off guard, he was used to Dick and Bruce- heck himself even. How had this skinny kid survived Bruce's training? Though, he'd seen him in action. And, even with the baggy shirt, it was obvious Tim was well muscled. Best not let his stature fool him.

“Hold up. You do realize this is a test, right?”

That got Tim’s attention.

“It's a test to see if they can trust me.”

“Doesn't your effort count enough? Just tell Dick I slipped out while you were sleeping.”

“It's not just about me wanting to. Or me trying.” He fell back to the couch. When he told Dick he had apologized to Tim, it hadn't quite been a lie. Just… not a whole truth.

“What do you mean?” Tim took the chair, giving Jason his full attention. This was probably the most exciting thing to happen while- who was he kidding? Staying with Dick could not be that boring. The man was a walking sitcom.

“I-” Wow, why was this so hard? It was so much easier to talk to Dick. Even Bruce. But he had known them before… while Tim… Tim was a stranger.

“Replace- Tim. Shit. Getting better at that, promise.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The pit… it…”

“It fucked with your head. Yea, I figured.” Tim blinked at him. “You don't think they'll take you at your words.”

“It's easy to say I've changed, came back to myself. But…”

“But, controlling the urges for violence, for killing, would prove it.” Tim nodded as he finished Jason’s thought.

“B’s always been more of an action over words guy anyway.”

Tim nodded. “Well, you apologized to me. And didn't go back on your word. So, I believe you can control it.”

“Thanks.” How had he ever tried to hurt him? He cleared his throat. “Dick said not to work his case, or use your shoulder. But, think you could stick around and help me with those files for mine?”

“The ones I pulled for you? Sure.” He shrugged, “Better than more of Dick’s boring t.v.”

Working with Tim was always refreshing. Fighting side by side had been a pleasant surprise. Tim may have been his replacement, but he was no imposter. Before the docks a few days ago, Jason had started to miss their impromptu meet ups, had even started debating about seeking him out. Having fate push them together had been quite serendipitous. Too bad it ended with Tim being injured.

“Sorry, again. About the shoulder,” Jason said as he set up his laptop on the coffee table. “I'm relearning how to work on a team.”

Tim glanced up from his own screen. “Guess we'll just have to train together when I'm healed up. Patrol together.”

Unexpected. The whole thing with Tim had been unexpected. Who just forgave someone who tried to slice them up? Apparently, Tim did.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to read the text. “Hey, kid. Mommy says take your meds.”

Tim rolled his eyes. A few seconds later, the alarm on his phone sounded. “It's _almost_ like I've been injured before.” He pulled out his meds, a mix of antibiotics and painkillers.

“He's always been overprotective. Don't take it personally.”

Tim blinked up, eyebrow raised. “Huh.” He blinked again. “I just always thought it was because…”

“Because I died,” Jason finished for him, his voice the same as Tim’s quiet whisper. “It's worse- but not new.”

They both let the subject drop and turned back to their laptops. After a few minutes, Jason could feel  
Tim watching him work. Jason didn’t look up, but he could see him just in his peripheral. Finally, Tim shifted.

“Jason-”

Whatever Tim was about to say was interrupted by the doorbell. Of course.

“I got it.” Tim moved to sit up, but Jason held out a hand.

“Sit. I'll get it.” Jason wanted to gag at how domestic the whole thing was becoming. Hopefully it would be assassins or something at the door. Hey, it could happen.

Or maybe Dick _had_  ordered a pizza. Just the thought of him being so thoughtful pulled another smile to his lips.

Jason pulled open the door, and wished again for assassins. Because Tim’s friends were worse. At least it was just one for now.

“Hi.” Jason stepped back so the glaring Kryptonian clone could enter.

Kon stalked past him into the apartment. Well, another person in the ‘Jason is an evil ass’ club. He shut the door and made his way back to his laptop. It was doubtful that Tim would be any use while his Titan pal was around. May as well double down on his own.

Tim and Kon were in heated whisper-argument when Jason took his seat on the couch. He pointedly ignored the way Kon glared at him. Or the way his hand was settled on Tim’s good shoulder.

“Don’t you have a paper due tomorrow? Dude, why are you helping this jackass anyway.”

Tim didn’t shrug the hand off, so Jason took it to mean it was a normal occurrence. When was the last time _he'd_ been touched by another human that was violent. He'd probably settle for a handshake at this point. Geeze, he was getting soft.

And there was Tim and Kon, casually touching like they did it all the time. Heck, the titans had always been a touchy feely bunch. Dick especially.

Huh. Dick hadn’t even given him an overly dramatic hug.

Well.

If _that_  didn’t illustrate just how little Jason scored. Everyone wore kid gloves around him, picked their words carefully. But if Dick was afraid to even touch him? Did his older brother think he was just a wild animal, to look at but not touch lest he get bit? Maybe Jason would bite. Maybe a touch would set him off, maybe give the Lazarus pit pull harder-

He didn’t like this part of having his head clear. Instead of thinking repeatedly about his death, about revenge, about killing, he was thinking about his life. His pathetic life. No one really wanted him around, did they? He was just a reminder of their failure.

“Jason?”

Except Tim. For whatever reason, he didn't flinch away from Jason. He didn't seem to view Jason as something broken beyond repair. Though, if anyone should…

“Yea?”

“The ledger, page two, entry four dash one- does that look-”

“Doctored.” Jason pulled the page up while Tim talked. “Yea. I see that.”

“If we cross that with-”

“The photos from the docks-”

“We could pinpoint-”

“Where the next shipment will be-”

“And put them out of business once and for all.”

Jason licked his lips. Tim beamed up at him. And wow, yea, that was why they worked so well together in the field. They we in tune, read the situation the same way. He used to be in synch with Dick and Bruce, able to fluidly anticipate what they would do (and then purposely mess it up because he was a little shit). But to have that carry over to research? That was new.

Kon glared at Jason from behind Tim. “Okay, enough working on cases. Nightwing said to rest.”

“But-”

Kon rested his chin on Tim’s head. “But, if you have the energy to work on a case, you have the energy to work on your paper.”

Tim groaned. “Fine.”

“Paper?” Jason cocked his head.

“I'm taking classes online. It's the only way to make college work on a hero's schedule.” Tim shrugged.

“Let the killer work out here, let's go.” Kon grabbed Tim’s laptop from his lap and disappeared down the hall.

Tim shot Jason an apologetic half smile, “Kon is still getting used to you being non-murdery.”

Jason frowned and turn back to his work. He deserved it. All of it. And admitting it to himself was just another step forward. Forward towards what, Jason didn’t know.

He heard Tim stand and walk towards him. A warm hand squeezed his shoulder. “He'll come around. They all will. I've seen you save lives. They'll see it too.”

Tim gave his shoulder another squeeze before following Kon. The bedroom door clicked shut, leaving Jason alone.

Jason reached up to where Tim’s had had been moments before. Tim didn’t flinch away from him. He was trying just as hard as Jason to help clear his name.

He sighed, leaning back on the sofa. Tim was going to be disappointed. Eventually Jason would slip. He wasn't stupid. He knew his limits. And one day he would slip, fall back into his rages. The pit was always pulling, he could feel it's faint call even now.

Jason pulled up his shirt sleeve, revealing the soul mark on his arm. Gingerly, he traced over it. So delicately intricate. He knew this was the mark of his true love, or whatever.

Who would ever love him? He'd wondered that before he died. Who could look past his life choices to love him. And now… now, what chance did he stand?

He resigned himself to a loveless life a long time ago. Who would love someone who came back from the dead. A murderer. A barely controllable monster. Who could love Jason Todd?

 

* * *

 

Tim let Kon maneuver him to the bed. If his hands lingered too long, he said nothing. His mind was still trying to puzzle out Jason. This was the second time he'd seen him without the helmet. Pictures didn’t do the man justice.

Why couldn't anyone else see how… sad, how deviated, their words made Jason feel? Did they not care?

“Kon, he is trying.”

Kon snorted. “I bet he is. Trying to find a way to kill you. Or use you to get to Bats.”

Tim growled, “That is not fair to him. He is really trying.”

“Well, if I am almost killed by someone, and you have to sit by my bed and wonder if I'll live - you can tell me if you'd be fine with me playing house with that person.”

“It wasn’t-” Tim bit his lip. Kon wasn't likely to listen. He lived in a very black and white, right and wrong, world. There was no room for shades of grey. No room for Lazarus Pit and PTSD.

Kon ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. Just another reminder that Kon couldn't do grey areas. “Kon, please stop.”

“Tim…” Kon complied, but Tim could see the the gears turning in his head.

“Kon, we agreed.”

“I can do it now.” Kon gripped his hand. “Tim, you’re like the only person who understands.”

Tim closed his eyes. It really was only a matter of time before Kon wanted to have this conversation. He was hoping it would be never, that they could keep their relationship on the ‘friends’ side of the line.

“Kon. I enjoyed our time together, but we-”

“Didn't love each other like that. I _know_. You keep reminding me.” Kon ran his thumb over Tim’s. “I miss you. Having you.”

“Kon…” Tim let himself lean on Kon. He missed having… someone. Not Kon specifically, but he did enjoy their times together.

“I can’t keep drawing marks on me every time I want to go on a date.”

They were theoretically a perfect match. Kon, being alien and a clone, had no marks. And with Tim’s identical ones… yea, they both would have a lot of uncomfortable questions to answer.

“I can't.” Tim swallowed. “We will just end up where we were. Frustrated at each other.”

“I think I can do friends with benefits. Please, Tim.”

Tim regretted making that suggestion. “Please. Kon, I don't want to keep talking about this now.”

Kon squeezed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. “I won't stop caring either way.”

Tim sat up, pulling his laptop to his crossed legs. “Wanna help me write this paper?”

Kon curled to the bed next to him with a grin. “I'm going to take a nap. Patrol went long last night”

Tim nudged him. “You can sleep at home. Or the tower.”

“I don't trust Red Hood.” Kon shot a glare towards the closed door.

“Jason. And I do. Sorta.” Tim sighed. “He's complicated. But Dick and I talked, and even he agrees Jason is trying.”

“I expect Dick to have a soft spot for Robin 2. The same soft spot he has for you. Demon Spawn too, though he wouldn’t admit it to the kid's face. Means he isn’t objective. Not fully.”

Tim turned back to his screen. There was nothing he could say to convince Kon. He would just wait until Jason’s actions matched his promises. Then Kon would see.

Idly, he rubbed at the mark on his injured arm. He had gone so long without dwelling on them. But since his conversation with Dick, he couldn't get them off his mind. It was a shame his relationship with Kon hadn’t turned out. But, he couldn’t lie to someone about loving them.

He resigned himself to a loveless life a long time ago. Who could love someone with identical marks. Someone who was a vigilante. Someone who put the mission above all else. Who could love Tim Drake?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As always, feel free to let me know if I blundered up anything :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the support so far! I love hearing from everyone <3

Jason was contemplating Dick’s lack of food choices when Tim emerged from the bedroom. There was no sign of his Kryptonian friend, for which Jason was grateful. He shuddered at the thought of eating his sparse breakfast in uneasy, hostile, silence.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Tim padded over to the coffee maker. His hair was still slightly damp from a shower, and he changed into another of Dick’s long sleeve shirts.

“Do you need your bandage changed?” Jason pretended to hunt in the fridge. There was nothing there- same as the last few times he'd checked.

How did Dick survive? If the piles of takeout containers on the counter and trash were any indication, Dickie wasn’t one for healthy eating. Or Alfred was supplementing his meals. There was a stab at his heart at the thought of Alfred. They had once been so close. Out of everyone, Alfred was the person he was most afraid to see, most afraid to disappoint. So, he stayed far away.

Tim grunted, pulling him back to the present. “Kon did it this morning before he left.”

Jason shrugged and turned his attention to the pantry. If it could be called that. Boxes of sugary cereal seemed to be the only edibles. There were a few cans of green beans hidden behind a stack of paper plates, but he didn't dare check their expiration date. He made a face and closed the door, turning his attention back to Tim.

“Whoa!” Jason all but jumped over to where Tim was climbing the counter. He grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back so his feet were on solid ground. Tim was all hard muscle under that baggy shirt and the way they tensed at Jason’s touch didn’t go unnoticed. “What part of ‘easy on the shoulder’ didn’t register? And don't you dare blame the pain killers.”

Tim shrugged away, “I can handle myself, thank you.” He sat the bag of coffee he managed to grab on the counter with a grunt. “I blame lack of caffeine.” He then groaned, hanging his head in despair as he read the label. “Why does Dick even _have_ decaf?”

Jason smirked as he reached around Tim to grab the regular coffee. He caught a whiff of Tim’s hair, which smelled distinctly like Dick’s over perfumed shampoo. Even he had to strain to reach the shelf, standing on his toes. “More important question, why does he need to keep it on the top shelf?”

He handed his prize to Tim, who certainly looked like he could use the caffeine. A small smile tugged at Tim’s lips in thanks.

Jason stepped back, putting some proper space between them. He gave Tim a look over, checking his injured shoulder for signs of being pulled from Tim’s ill-planned coffee retrieval. A smudge on Tim’s neck caught his eye. Concealer? Jason smirked, pointing at it, “Didn’t Alfred teach you how to _blend_?”

Tim snapped a hand up to his neck as he measured out the coffee grounds.

“You and clone boy have some fun last night?” Jason smirked again to cover up the sudden flutter in his stomach. It shouldn't bother him if Tim got some action. It _didn't_.

“Um.” Tim bit at his bottom lip. “It's not-”

Jason gave a small hoot. “Tim ~ and Kon ~ sitting in a-”

“It's an injury. A scar.” Tim’s back was rigid as he continued setting up the coffee pot.

Jason frowned? And injury? Tim didn’t strike him as the vain type to conceal a mark unless he was in public. Dick, sure. But Tim? Why bother?

Oh.

Oh…

Oh god.

Jason stepped back further, until his back collided with the cool granite of the kitchen island. His throat constricted painfully at the memory of his knife of Tim’s throat. It seemed like a lifetime ago, while it hadn't even been a year.

With the coffee starting to brew, Tim sighed and turned around. He looked to his side, not meeting Jason’s eyes. They stood in silence, their history hanging thick in the air, the only sound was their breathing and the bubbling of the coffee maker.

Jason closed his eyes, “I-”

“It's fine.” Tim’s voice was clipped, tense with what Jason could only call disgust.

Jason opened his eyes and slowly raised his hand to Tim’s neck. Everything happened in slow motion, his hand moving on its own while his brain tried to keep up. Tim’s hair danced right at the edge of the concealer, if he let it grow any longer it would be fully hidden. It tickled the back of Jason’s hand as his thumb delicately brushed at the skin. He was unable to feel exactly where the scar was, but his mind conjured up plenty of images of what was under the makeup.

“Don’t hide it for my sake.” He didn’t want to forget. He couldn't forget.

Tim drew a slow breath, holding Jason’s eyes with his searching gaze

“Tim...” Jason could feel Tim’s pulse under his warm skin. How close had he came to ending it? Ending this amazing person? Too close. Too fucking close. There had been so much rage, so much blindness. And, no matter how much Tim pretended to be relaxed, Jason could see, could feel, his apprehension.

“I-” Tim blinked. “You don't need the reminder. Don't need-”

Jason dropped his hand. “Don't tell me what I need.” It came out a little harsher than he intended, and Tim’s slight recoil made his stomach churn. And he deserved it. Deserved so much more than a flinch. How had Tim worked along side him, knowing the monster he could be? How had he slept under the same roof? Kon-El’s remarks rang through his head- and he was right.

They all were.

“Sorry.” Jason turned away, “I- I'm going to get you some food. Dick may be able to survive on take out, but you need some real food.”

He needed to escape. If he hadn’t promised the boy wonder himself, he wouldn’t come back. But, he had made a promise. Even if he would never fully redeem himself, he owed it to them to _try_. Owed it to himself to be a better person, to try to be himself again. If he could remember how.

“Yea. Okay.” Tim’s voice was quiet, softer than Jason expected.

Jason didn’t turn around to Tim, he didn’t want to see if there was any fear in his eyes. As he grabbed for his jacket, he planned the longest route to a cheap store. Fresh air could go a long way to clearing his head.

 

* * *

 

Tim brushed at the old knife wound on his neck. He stared after Jason while trying to steady his breathing. All of his planning and he still couldn't stop himself from reacting. What good was it to have Jason starting to heal if Tim couldn't get over his past actions?

The coffee finished brewing, sputtering away behind him. Coffee would be good, it would help him focus. Keeping his emotions in check required too much effort to not have caffeine.

Fear wasn't very becoming. He was better than that. And Jason deserved better than Tim flinching away. He hadn’t wanted Jason to be reminded, to dwell on their past fights.

His skin tingled where Jason’s thumb had brushed. It had been so gentle, almost reverent, and definitely remorseful. Which wasn't at all what Tim expected.

Jason wasn't at all what he expected. All of his research pointed to Jason staying angry, resentful, and retaining part of the pit’s influence. Had he miscalculated? Or simply underestimated Jason?

Tim expected his scar to throw Jason back, push him, remind him of why he had hated Tim in the first place. That, or cold indifference. Not remorse- and that gave him a whole new set of variables to plan for.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds to compose himself. It was unclear how long Jason was planning on staying out, and he really needed to get his eyes out of his head. Because that was the most striking - Jason’s eyes. How clear they were.

“Come on, Drake.” He sighed, wincing as he rubbed at his shoulder. Climbing had seemed like such a good idea at the time. He was perfectly capable of climbing one handed - but the effort had jostled his shoulder.

Once he fixed a mug of coffee, Tim claimed the oversized chair by the T.V. and settled his laptop on the coffee table. As soon as it was on, he had an incoming Skype call. Probably a new record.

“Gar.” Tim blinked at his smiling friend. With the time difference, he hadn’t expected anyone to be up yet. “Little early, isn't it?”

Gar yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. “Late actually. Just got back from a nasty patrol.”

Urgh, Tim should have been there.

“Dude- stop that face. Nothing we couldn't handle, just a lot of hide-n-seek…”

“Go to bed.”

Gar snorted, “ Shouldn't I be telling _you_ that? You look like shit.”

“Haven't had my coffee yet.”

“You should be _resting_. But- since you Bats are stubborn like that... “ Gar pursed his lips, “Is Hood treating you well?”

A groan escaped Tim’s lips. “I don’t need to be grilled by you too.” He sighed. “He's _fine_. Like I told you, he is coming back to himself.”

“I don’t like that Dick invited him to help.”

Tim winced. “That was actually my idea.”

“What! Why would you-”

“Gar. It was a way to test a hypothesis.” It had taken a while to convince Dick to consider it. “To see if he was serious about proving himself. He just left to get food- _real_  food.”

Judging by the look on Gar’s face, it was doubtful he believed him about Jason, but he let the subject drop. “Awww, but you're going to miss Dick’s cuisine. Better than any poison Red Hood will feed you.”

“Jason _isn't_  going to poison me. Besides, anything is better than pop tarts and cereal.” Tim flipped through the tv stations then sighed, “ Nothing on. At least I don’t have to watch Dick’s stupid soap operas.”

Gar chuckled sleepily. “ _Speaking_  of entertainment. I heard Kon spent the night.”

Tim frowned at Gar’s eyebrow waggle. “Gar. We aren't getting back together.”

“Doesn't mean you can't have fun.” He shrugged, “Unless you want me to start looking for your soul match, because I can totally do that.”

“No. For the millionth time- no.”

“There's always the-”

“No. I'm not going to join the support network.” It was always Gar’s go to suggestion. “It would just feel… wrong. To say my soulmate died? I'm not desperate.” He had plenty to keep him occupied. It wasn’t like he'd ever pictured himself getting married, having a family. So, he wasn't missing much.

“You are no fun.” Gar rubbed at his eyes. “When will you be back?”

“I hope in a week. Light duty. In the meantime, I'm helping Jason with research on a case.” It would be more like a month, but he would push.

“So, not resting like you should. No- sitting does not count as resting. Not if you're working. And helping Hood no less? Come on.”

“Enough. Get to bed, Gar. I'll be fine.

Maybe he was too tired to argue, or maybe he was just done trying to reason with Tim. Either way, Gar said his goodbyes and terminated the call. The Titan’s worry was appreciated, but Tim knew what he was doing.

Well, he usually knew what he was doing. Jason was the mission with the most amount of variables, and the list kept growing. But, it was worth the risk to himself. He had seen first hand how Jason’s death had broken Bruce and Dick, had been there for the fallout. And Jason’s vengeance fueled killing spree only twisted the knife of guilt further.

Neither of them had said it out loud, but Tim could read between the lines. Once they realized the extent of Jason’s delusions, they wished he never came back, wished he had been left in peace.

If Tim could help Jason continue to find himself, help guide him to who he used to be- who he should have became- then he could call his mission a success.

That was his purpose. The reason he took up the mask. If Batman stayed on mission, Tim could call himself successful. It didn't make for a glamorous life, but he had long since made peace with it.

Tim absently rubbed at his shoulder. Climbing for coffee hadn’t ended quite as expected. At least he hadn’t pulled his stitches. He probably had Jason to think for that. If he hadn’t pulled him down…

He could still feel the warmth from Jason’s strong arms. Which was… different. Though, he couldn't place the sensation precisely, he recognized it _was_ _different_. Maybe it was just the effects of the pain meds, or maybe his mind couldn't yet classify Jason as an ally. Not subconsciously anyway.

Tim groaned. It was obvious he wouldn’t get anywhere by just thinking about it. He needed to experiment and observe. He retrieved his laptop from the bedroom. Maybe working on his boring paper would help pass the time.

 

* * *

 

A loud bang at the door woke Tim from his nap. He didn't quite remember dozing off, but it sure did beat writing a stupid paper. There was another bang followed by, “Dammit. TIM!”

Tim rolled his eyes and padded over to open the door. He couldn't see Jason over the multiple bags he was balancing. “Forget a key?”

“Usually use the window.” Jason carried his haul to the kitchen. As he passed, Tim caught the strong scent of cigarette smoke and wrinkled his nose.

Tim eyed the food Jason purchased and wondered just how many times Jason had snuck into the apartment without Dick knowing. He seemed to know his way around well enough.

Jason paused, blinking as he realized Tim was watching him. “Um.” He shrugged, turning around to put a carton eggs in the fridge. “This should be enough for you until Dick gets back.”

Tim frowned. “You say that like you're not staying.”

“I…” Jason paused. “This was a bad idea. Working a case- that's one thing… but, I don’t think…”

Jason’s eyes flicked to the hidden scar on Tim’s neck.

“You- uh- you don’t have to stay… if you don't want to.” Tim stepped closer. “But don't leave because you're trying to protect me.”

Jason sighed, looking more weary than Bruce did after a triple threat night.

“I'll need help with my bandages later.” Tim inched closer. “ What happened when you came back- It wasn’t your fault.”

“I did-”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t you.” Tim slowly reached for Jason’s arm which rested on the counter, silently expressing his lack of conscious fear. “But I don't blame you. And if you keep blaming yourself, you will never… never move on.”

“Have you? Moved on?” Jason kept his gaze glued to where Tim’s fingers wrapped around his arm.

“I-” Tim paused, squeezing Jason’s arm slightly as he thought. “Not fully. I thought I did…” But if he had, he wouldn’t have flinched.

“Thank you.” Jason turned his head, looking down to catch Tim’s eyes. “I don’t know why you care so much. But thank you.”

Tim swallowed at the rawness in Jason’s words. “I care because-” because it helps Bruce and Dick- “it could have been any of us.”

Jason flinched slightly, shaking his head and pulling away, breaking Tim’s grip. “No,” he said as he reached for his pants leg. “It was always going to be me.”

Tim stared at the angry green mark above Jason’s ankle.

“Unless you've got one of these too? Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if half of Gotham has his mark.”

Tim couldn’t think of anything other than ‘well, that sucks’, so he held his tongue. Instead, he glanced at the food. “How did you afford…?”

Jason dropped his pant leg and straightened back up. “Hey, I cut my network.” He sighed, “Most of my network. But no, criminal activity did _not_ pay for your food. Dick left a credit card.”

Jason sounded a little too cheeky, and he doubted Dick meant for Jason to use said card, but oh well. They could argue about it when Dick got back. Heck, fighting over something besides Jason’s _methods_  would probably go a long way to restoring their relationship.

“Eggs and fruit?” Jason resumed putting away the rest of the groceries.

“It's lunch time.” Wow, Jason was gone for a while. “But yea, that sounds good.”

Jason hummed and put a skillet on the stove. “Scrambled? With cheese?”

“Without cheese. I'll cut the fruit.” Tim reached for an apple, only to have it pulled away.

“You'll rest.” Jason pointed a knife in his direction, wincing as he registered what he was doing. He quickly put it on the chopping board. “I'll bring your plate out.”

Tim gave in, moving back to his chair in the living room. His barely-started paper stared at him, taunting him. He closed the document and opened the files for Jason’s case.

He lost himself in the numbers and names. It was amazing how much information these idiots always seemed to leave lying around. If you knew where to look.

“Hey.”

Tim looked up from his screen. Jason was extending a plate towards him. He closed his laptop and gave the food a cursory sniff.

“It's not poisoned.” Jason pushed it closer.

“I know,” Tim pulled the plate to his lap. “Just… well… Dick’s food tends to be burnt.”

Jason’s laugh was musical. “Yea? Well, never fear! I think I spent more time in the kitchen with Alfred than training with Bruce.”

“Yea?” Tim took a cautious bite. “Yea!” The eggs melted in his mouth, an explosion of flavor and- wow, he really missed real food. It had been too long since he ate at the manner. His eating habits were slightly better than Dick’s, he knew how to make a few basic meals. Though, even his eggs fell flat compared to this. “Okay- wow.”

A light blush dusted over Jason’s face.at Tim’s praise. “That's just eggs.”

“So good though.”

“Wait till dinner then. It will blow your pallet.”

Jason relaxed into the couch. It wasn’t forced like the previous night, it was real. And Tim smiled into his scoop of eggs, progress was progress, no matter how small.

“So, no Joker splotch? I have this theory that everyone in Gotham has a villain as their worst mark match. Makes sense.”

“Hope not.” Tim winced. He hated talking about soul marks. Why couldn't he escape the subject lately? “I'd like to think mine matches someone I'll never meet. Maybe they live so far away I'll never meet them.”

Jason snorted. “If you never meet them, then they wouldn’t be your mark.”

“I choose not to believe that.”

Jason brushed over his forearm. “I need to believe that.” He rubbed at his forearm. “I've had my worst, I need to believe, need to know, I'll meet my soulmate too. Even if I lose them- just knowing someone could love me…”

Whoa. “Someone will. Someone does, Jason. Bruce - Dick- Alfred- it's not the same, but-”

“Yea, yea- family blah blah blah. I've heard the lecture a million times. From _Bruce_ , _Dick_ , and _Alfred_. I wasn't exactly the most amicable child.”

Tim smiled, yea he heard some of Alfred’s stories about Jason. “Dami may be breaking your pain-in-the-ass record.”

“Bruce's spawn. Not surprising.” Jason reached for his laptop. “Any more headway?”

“Not yet.” Tim shoveled in his remaining meal and also pulled up his laptop.

They worked in silence for most of the afternoon. Jason collected their plates at some point, disappearing into the kitchen for a while. Tim focused on the stream of data, pushing talk about soulmates far away.

Maybe Jason was on to something. Maybe he did have to face his match. But that didn't mean he would be stuck with them for long. And that gave Tim a bit of peace he hadn't had in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience and all the love! I'm overwhelmed by the response I've had for this fic and I am so sorry I've taken so long with an update. 
> 
>  
> 
> Oops- this first bit was supposed to be at the end of the last chapter and I accidentally copied that part of the outline to this chapter. *shrugs* most of this chap is Dick dealing with Dami, Bruce, and their mission- so some jaytim fluff at the beginning is nice :)

Tim stared unblinkingly at his partially written paper. He just didn't see the point in it- such a waste of time. Instead, he tried to focus on what Jason was doing in the kitchen.

There was the occasional clang of cupboards opening and closing as Jason searched Dick’s kitchen. He hadn’t said what he was making, so Tim strained his senses to try and figure it out. It wasn’t the best use of his time, but it was much more interesting than a silly college paper.

When the shuffling of cabinets and ingredients stopped, Tim could make out Jason’s soft humming. It was familiar, but Tim couldn’t quite place the tune. After a few minutes of just listening, a memory of Alfred fluttered to his mind. Often, when he thought he was alone, Alfred sang softly to himself. While he cooked, the tune was hummed gently, a sweet melody which Tim never found the name of.

When Alfred hummed the tune softly to himself it sounded forlorn, as if he were singing a lamentation for someone long past. Tim hadn’t asked, had assumed it was too personal for him to butt into. And while they were clearly the same song, Jason’s melody was carefree.

Tim drew his conclusions, satisfied he had all the data he needed.

“Hey, babybird.” The apartment seemed too quiet without Jason’s song. Jason walked over to where Tim was sitting, a steaming mug extended to him.

“Coffee?” Tim reached for the mug hopefully, ignoring his body's tension at Jason’s proximity and forcing a smile.

Jason’s smile almost reached his eyes, “Better.”

Tim pulled the mug to him. “Nothing is better than coffee.” He peered into the mug, giving it a sniff and smelling chocolate. Not coffee. “A mug cake?”

Jason plopped onto the couch adjacent to Tim’s chair, his own mug nestled between his hands . “Comfort food. Easy to make. Dick doesn't exactly have the pans for me to make an actual cake. But, you really can't beat a good ol’ microwave cake.”

“Coffee is still better.” Tim smirked at Jason’s aghast expression. “But,” he conceded after taking a small bite, “I'll give this a close second.”

“I'll take it.” Jason smiled into his mug, his eyes unfocused, like he was thinking of some far off memory. He snapped out of it quickly enough, remembering where he was. “So, what are you working on?”

Tim sighed and explained the assignment. “I just- it's such a waste of time. I'd rather just take a test, prove I know the material, and get the damn degree already.”

Jason chuckled, “There is a nuance to writing a paper- something which goes beyond just facts. It's… like stretching? Showing how the material can be applied and letting yourself explore beyond what the textbook says.”

Jason rubbed the back of his head and turned back to his cake. Tim raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Jason’s passion. Everything he knew about Jason pointed to him being rebellious about school… but then, maybe it wasn’t learning which agitated Jason.

“Feel free to write it for me.” He gave Jason a small smile, unsure if teasing him was a good idea or not, the tension from their altercation that morning still hung between them.

Jason shrugged, “I actually wouldn't mind.” He scrunched his face, “But don't think my help is free- no, no.”

Tim rolled his eyes, enjoying the lighter atmosphere. “Sure, I'll work your case files.” He smirked as he scooped out a bite of cake, “It's the _least_ I could do.”

Jason chucked, a deep soothing sound. And, wow, Tim could definitely get used to hearing it. He sent Jason his homework file, which Jason proceeded to poke fun at, “There's only like two words! Come on, Timmers, I know you can type just fine with one hand.”, and they easily settled into a comfortable working silence.

Tim typed away, comparing and cross referencing the various documents. Eventually, Jason would need to head back to the streets. Actually, he would probably head out as soon as the sun set. Tim knew Jason was itching to get back to the streets. He had the same itch, and scouring over data was as close as he would get for a few weeks.

A soft hum began to fill the silence. Tim’s hand stilled on his keyboard, his concentration broken. It was the same sweet melody Jason had hummed while in the kitchen. His eyes flicked up, silently watching Jason as he typed leisurely.

He didn’t want to interrupt, but he had to know. “That's a nice song.” He waited until Jason looked up. “What is it?”

Jason blinked and quickly looked away. “Sorry- was I bothering you? I didn't realize I was humming…”

The more time he spent with Jason, the more unsure Tim was about everything he'd been lead to believe. The stories he'd been told never hinted at Jason being… was bashful even the right word? Tim tucked the information away until he had more data to reference.

But certainly, Dick and Bruce's stories hadn't hinted at all that Jason was this considerate of others- or maybe Tim hadn't listened close enough. He needed to see what else was hiding under Jason’s gruff facade.

The seconds ticked by and Tim needed to say something, anything. But Jason was biting at his lip- more data- and he couldn't pull his focus away.

Jason shook himself from his thoughts first and shrugged. “It's, um, just a song my mom used to sing to me.”

“It has a nice melody.” Tim found his hand twitching towards Jason, wanting to smooth out the worry lines on his face. He wanted to know more, but Bats didn’t talk about family. Too many bad memories to risk. It was information that had to be given freely, not something to prod someone about.

“Yea, it does.” Jason gave Tim a sad smile. “It's the one thing I have from my family. A song…” He trailed off, looking down.

“You have a nice voice.” Tim blinked, where had that even came from? “I mean, from what I can tell. And you weren't bothering me, I was just curious.”

Jason’s eyes crinkled, “Alfred and used to sing it with me. Usually while we were cooking… I guess it's just a subconscious thing now…”

Tim didn’t have the heart to tell Jason that Alfred still sung the song while he cooked alone, humming it softly to himself as he measured and stirred. Instead, he smiled at Jason and turned back to his work, letting the almost comfortable silence settle between them once more. The only sounds in the apartment were the soft taps of their keyboards and Jason’s soft song.

 

* * *

  
Undercover work was not Damian’s forte; in fact, it was very close to the bottom of his list of ways to deal with criminals. But, he followed his father's instructions, even if he grumbled about them the entire time. And now, he barged back into their suite at the ritzy hotel, tossing his blonde wig to the floor and trampling over as he made his way to ‘his room’.

“Baby Bat, back already?” Grayson’s voice was nothing but chipper as he looked over the back of the couch. “Thought it would be at _least_ another five minutes before you ran off.”

The overly smug smile on Grayson’s face only incensed Damian further and he halted his retreat to his room. Could the buffoon not see? “Grayson. I'm done with this stupid ploy. I'm going home.”

Dick blinked at his baby brother, his smile fading. “What happened?”

Damian crossed his arms defiantly. “Exactly what I said would happen. All of that embarrassing acting- pretending like I give two craps about stupid soul marks- it was for nothing.”

“Aww,” Dick cooed. “Were you embarrassed?” He flashed Damian a toothy grin before he flipped over to sit on the back of the couch.

“What- no!” Damian pursed his lips. He did not get embarrassed. Why had he said such a thing? It trivialized the whole thing. “Forget it.”

He turned back towards his room, but paused when Dick called out to him. “Wait, little D.” He jumped off the couch and took a cautious step towards Damian. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Did Grayson seriously expect him to ‘talk’? “Go to hell. I'll give Father my report.” But his feet stayed rooted, betraying him to Dick’s attempt to be… brotherly? Out of the whole menagerie of Robins before him, Dick was the only one Damian considered family. Not that he would admit it out loud.

Dick knelt in front of him, his expression open and searching. “If this mission made you uncomfortable, you could have talked to me. We wouldn't have made you-”

“Father deemed this the best course of action.”

“Damian. Arguing about the mission’s effectiveness versus whatever it was you wanted to do is one thing. But Bruce will never ask you to do something that you're uncomfortable with.” His hand twitched, wanting to comfort Damian. But experience stopped him.

Damian looked away. “It's a stupid thing to be uncomfortable about. My reasons for using a different tactic are unrelated to-”

He was cut off by Dick’s arms circling around his shoulders. Honestly, he was surprised he managed to hold out so long. He let his brother comfort him for a few seconds, relishing the comfort for as long as he deemed acceptable, then pulled back. At his slight movement away, Dick let go. And that was why Damian could allow it, could let himself be vulnerable around Dick; he knew he could trust his older brother to know when to back away. Even if Dick still hovered, Damian knew he wouldn’t physically act on his worry again without his permission.

“Dami.” Dick sighed. “Soul marks are different for everyone… some people treat them like a party, or ignore them completely, while to others soulmarks are sacred.”

Damian bit his lip, then caught himself and clicked his tongue. “I hate them.” His words came out weaker than he would have liked, but he got them out nonetheless. It was the first time he had spoke them aloud, let alone to someone else.

“Yea?” Dick shrugged. Undoubtedly attributing Damian’s words as yet another of his arrogant rebellions.

That didn’t sit well with Damian. There was a need inside of him which demanded Dick understand. Damian didn’t understand it himself - not fully anyway. And if there was one person he could trust, even if begrudgingly, it was Dick Grayson.

“I mean it. I hate them.” Damian crossed over to the kitchen, hopping up to one of the high back bar stools.

Sensing his younger brother's serious demeanor, Dick mirrored Damian as he took the other stool. “This isn't just you being you, is it?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the question. “It is. Me. Being me.” Damian rubbed at his eyes. He spent so much of his life acting, it was no wonder those closest to him didn’t even really know him. “Forget it.”

“No. I get it.” Dick plucked an apple from the bowl of fruit between them. “Lil’ D… I… you _can_  be yourself you know?”

He knew. Dick took every opportunity to let Damian know he didn't need to pretend, didn’t need to continue to fill a role. He thumbed over the fake soul mark on his wrist. “It's amazing how one small thing can mean so much to people.”

Dick nodded, taking a huge bite of his apple as he waited for Damian to continue.

“Grandfather always told me both marks belonged to our greatest weakness. The two people who could inflict the most harm upon us.”

“He's not completely wrong - love isn't easy. It's messy, and even with your ‘soulmate’ there will be times of anger, sadness and-”

“He meant the soulmate was a weakness because we would risk a lot to protect them. Love is a weakness.” Damian sighed. This was turning into one of the longest conversations he'd had with Dick -anyone really- that didn't involve planning a mission. “Mother said my soulmate was important, that I should find them as quickly as possible and solidify the next generation.”

“She _assumed_ your soulmate would be female?”

Damian shrugged. The idea his soulmate wouldn't be had never crosses his mind, he was more concerned with the idea they existed at all.

“I didn’t understand - I really still don't. Her and father were not soulmates, their marks didn’t match. Does she think I am an inferior heir because of it?”

Dick snorted. “Forget them. They were wrong about everything else. The important thing is what you think.”

“I told you. I hate them.” He eyed the door. Bruce shouldn't be back for a while, but Damian’s disappearance may change his time table. “All I hear from people is how they can't wait to find their soulmate and get married. I just… I don't want that. I hate that there is the mark on me, telling me that one day I'll suddenly change my mind.”

Dick thought for a moment, then sat his apple core down. “You don't have to change. Why would fate -or whatever- match you with someone you aren't compatible with? Soulmate doesn't need to mean lover, doesn't need to mean marriage. And I bet when you meet this person, they will want the same thing from life as you.”

No one had ever said that to him, not that he'd ever told anyone the real reason he hated his marks. The sentiment wasn’t something he'd ever heard expressed by anyone, the general push seemed to be for, well, sex, marriage, and somehow that equaled happily ever after. Could he have a happy ending without those things? It was comforting to think so, to know someone else thought he could too.

Damian met Dick’s eyes, wondering not for the first time just why he cared so much. Where most people brushed him off or pushed him aside, Dick always had his arms wide open. “Thanks.”

The wide smile told him Dick understood the weight of his gratitude extended beyond just his words of reassurance. “So,” Dick said as he began to steer their conversation back to the mission, “what happened down there?”

“Someone matched my fake.”

“That… was sorta the point.”

His stomach churned. “Our intel told us what marks to prepare for, not who they belonged to.” Which was a fact he repeated during his attempts to persuade them to use a different approach. “His eyes lit up like he'd won some jackpot, and it was obvious what he wanted… So, I left before I blew our cover by putting his head through a wall.”

“Fuck.” Dick rubbed his temples. “This whole event is fucked up.”

“No kidding.” Damian clicked his tongue. “I marked him for Father before I retreated. If he isn't our target, he should be able to lead us to them.”

“I should head out then.” Dick scooted from the stool. “Bruce will need-” He stopped as the door opened and Bruce slid in. His hair was dyed red for his cover. “Speak of the devil.”

“Damian.” Bruce's disapproval was clear. “Sabotaging is not-”

“He did the right thing, Bruce.” Dick stepped between them.

Damian looked between them as Dick stared Bruce down. Something passed between them, something Damian couldn't read, but Bruce quickly deflated, moving towards Damian and resting a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Dick can handle it from here. Mission report then meet me for dinner.”

He disappeared down the hall to the far bedroom, leaving his two sons in the kitchen. When Damian moved to retreat to his bedroom, Dick followed.

“Dami?” Dick hovered, and when Damian gave him the slightest of nods, his arms were around him lighting quick. “Talk to him. He'll understand. Maybe give you better advice.”

The hug was short, but Dick kept one hand on Damian’s shoulder after he pulled away.

“Dick?” Not Grayson. Not Richard.

Dick’s eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly, nodding to Damian that it was okay to ask his question.

“Does it get easier? Working with Father?”

“Hasn't it already?” Dick squeezed Damian’s shoulder as he stood up. He nodded his farewell, leaving Damian alone with his thoughts.

After his door click shut, Damian let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he processed the day's events. He knew he would need to bottle back up all of his personal insecurities before he spoke with Bruce; talking to Dick was one thing, but he couldn’t have his father thinking less of him because he showed weakness. It was unacceptable.

He took his time meditating, refocusing his thoughts back to the mission. Today was supposed to be an intel gathering day, scoping the ‘event's’ guests under their assumed identities and digging deeper once they compared notes. So much for that...

A knock at his door pulled him from his mediation before he could review further. “Damian?”

Bruce's voice was softer than normal, the same tone he had taken when Damian’s cat died. Like a small amount of overcompensated concern would make up for his normal steely aloofness.

Damian shook his head. That was unfair to Bruce. It was his mother's opinions once again surfacing as his own. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish what was real from what he had been raised -trained- to believe.

“It is open, Father.” He uncrossed his legs as the door swung open.

“Dinner was just delivered.” He paused to wait for Damian to follow before moving out of the doorframe.

Damian quietly followed him to their kitchen. Alfred was setting out their meals, looking rather strange without his grey hair. Though, brown did suit him. This was the one part of their mission Damian didn't mind. Usually going undercover meant forgoing a home cooked meal, or worse- Dick’s cooking.

“You will find the particulars under the tray,” he told Bruce. Then he tsked, “The sooner we get this over with the better. I fear for Master Timothy, he should be under my care while he recovers.”

Damian scrunched his face, he didn’t know which was worse: Todd or Drake. And one watching the other? Recipe for disaster. “Don’t think he can hold his own against Hood? My money is on Todd snapping by day two.”

Alfred sucked in a breath. “My only concern is our dear Timothy trying to return to the field before he is ready. I have no doubt Jason will render only the best of care. Young Master Wayne, I hope someday you are half the Robin Jason was.”

Damian leveled a glare at Alfred’s retreating back. Next to him, Bruce stood stiffly. Talking about Todd was a bit of a taboo around him, more so now that he was alive again. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been home when Dick informed him of Tim’s intention to let Jason mind his shoulder wound. Though, he could easily imagine how well that conversation had gone.

“Let's eat.” Bruce waved his hand to a chair then took the one opposite it.

Alfred’s cooking was, as always, impeccable. Damian forced it past the lump in his throat, unsure what to think of Alfred’s outburst and his Father's lack of response. Was he failing to live up to their expectations?

The knot in his stomach grew the longer Bruce stared at him. He mentally cursed his father's hesitation to ask whatever was clearly on his mind, missing the irony completely. As the tension seemed to reach its peak, Damian pushed away the remainder of his food and stood from the table, intent on retreat. “I'll have my report done in-”

“Damian, sit.”

He moved back to the chair without hesitation; while on a mission you did not question Batman's instructions. It was one of his earliest lessons, one he had to learn the hard way.

“Damian…” Bruce sighed, rolling out his shoulders. “I miscalculated, for that I am sorry.”

Damian bristled, but was nonetheless thankful to talk about the mission instead of Drake. “Don't be sorry. I just hope…” He snapped his head away to stare at the far wall. Hope was worthless. “How can people like _that_  have a soulmate?”

“It is never a child.” Bruce placed a comforting hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“That you know of...” The man's gaze from earlier had raked over him like he was some holy grail… A cold shiver ran down his spine as he remembered.

“It's… usually someone who shares their same depravity. Same with any villain really. Though, there are known exceptions.”

“What about heroes? What about you?” Damian wanted to take the works back before he finished the last syllable. Such a deeply personal question had no right being asked during a mission debriefing. “I'm sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

Bruce blinked at him, his hand giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before he leaned back in his chair. The word sorry hung between them. A word neither of them took habit in saying, said twice without sarcasm or malice. Alfred would call it progress had he been there to witness it.

“Don’t apologize. It's natural to wonder.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “As you know,” he began carefully, “your mother and I are not matches.”

Damian clicked his tongue.

“I- usually parents talk to their children about their marks… I don't even… what did your mother teach you?”

Damian rolled his eyes and repeated everything he told Dick. Bruce only nodded along, and if he was surprised, he didn’t let it show. How fitting, Damian mused, that after countless adopted children, Bruce would have _the_ _talk_  with his own flesh and blood.

“That is… disturbing, but not unexpected.” Bruce picked up their plates as he stood from the table. “Let's talk in the living area.”

Damian didn’t question the request, though he did find the whole situation rather surreal. The word uncomfortable came to mind and he suddenly had a deeper understanding of Dick’s use of humor to diffuse such tension. Though humor wasn't something in his own playbook, he felt the need to comment. Something. Anything.

“Good that Todd isn't here, these people wouldn't be living if he got wind of it. And there goes our intel.” He mentally cringed. Dick would have been able to effortlessly inject humor into the same sentiment.

Some of the tension left Bruce's shoulders as he sighed. He took a seat opposite of Damian, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. “Jason has made strides, he would interrogate them first….” He trailed off, staring down at his hands between his knees. “But yes, Jason would probably…” Bruce shook his head.

“I wonder if he has a soulmate.” Damian voiced his question out loud, hoping to delay -or completely avoid- the direction the conversation had been previously heading. “I mean, coming back from the dead and all.”

The tension returned to Bruce's shoulders and Damian knew he'd stepped over the unspoken line in regards to Jason Todd. For all of his flaws -before and after- Bruce was protective of his second son. “Jason does. I just…”

Damian didn’t press for more. It wasn’t Bruce's place to share such a person truth. For that respect, he was grateful. The same consideration would be extended to each member of the family, which was the only reason he was entertaining continuing their conversation.

“Soulmates are not always easy to find, nor are they easy to keep. I hope you find happiness, but do not think for one second you are bound by your marks.” Bruce paused, holding Damian’s eyes for a long moment before continuing. “Your mother and I are not ‘matches’; fate did not mark us soulmates. And you are not lesser for being the result of our union. Do not let your grandfather ever tell you otherwise.”

He had to know, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

The intensity in Bruce's features softened, “Yes.” He leaned forward, open and honest- a father talking to his son. “However, we have not crossed beyond friends for a long time.”

“You can choose?”

“Yes. It doesn't make my feelings diminish, but being together would be an even greater sacrifice. One I am not willing to make.”

The cowl. It didn't need to be said, it was obvious enough. There was just one thing in the world Bruce would sacrifice anything -almost anything- for.

“Thank you, Father. This has helped immensely.”

So many questions still swirled in Damian’s mind, but he forced them away for now. Too much time had been spent on personal questions already, and they had a mission to finish.

* * *

 

 

Tim backed up until the back of his legs hit the bed. Apprehension coursed through his veins, his heart thumping against his chest. He hated the feeling. Even more, he hated being unable to control it.

Logic usually grounded him. It was his weapon against the unknown, one he honed at an early age. Back when he was alone, left to fend for himself by parents who couldn't be brought to care about a child afraid of monsters under his bed. There were no monsters. Logically he had known, deep down, but it did nothing to quell the fear at first. And he'd conquered his fear eventually, all on his own, all by being reasonable and not giving into his fear.

This time, his heart wasn't pounding in fear of a monster under the bed. Those didn’t exist, just a figment of a child's imagination. But, he knew monsters _were_  real. Not in the sense he thought when he was five, but monsters walked among us everyday pretending to be human.

Despite his training with Batman, his heart still pounded as his listened to the muted sounds of Jason walking around the kitchen. Jason wasn't a monster anymore than Bruce or Dick… or himself. In fact, Jason was out there making dinner, something other than quick order grease.

They worked well together, fought well together, and even off of the field they were making progress on their case. Because of Jason’s enthusiasm, he wasn't going to fail out of a class because of his own apathy.

But still…

Tim let himself sit on the edge of the bed, keeping an eye on the door in front of him. Jason wasn't a monster. Tim trusted him. Mostly.

So why couldn't he relax?

Tim reached up to rub at the scar on his neck. He hadn’t washed off the concealer. As they worked that afternoon, Jason kept glancing over at him, at his scar.

The sounds from the kitchen ended, and he listened to the footsteps getting closer and closer. His heart sped up at the soft tap of knuckles against the door.

“Tim?” Jason’s voice was cheerful, yet another reason for Tim to be relaxed. “Ready?”

He swallowed. There were far worse villains which he faced almost daily, vile creatures with very little resembling any sort of redeeming quality. He had suffered far worse from them, he had the scars to prove it.

But logic wouldn't help him. Only time. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Tim reached behind his head to grab at his over sized sweater. He tugged with his good arm, trying to pull it over his head, a feat which proved difficult in his panic.

“Almost,” he said when the silence had stretched too long. After another minute of contorting within the confines of his injury, the fabric slipped over his head and feel easily down to his elbows. Tim felt exposed with his injured shoulder on display. But, at least he could keep his forearms, and thus his soul marks, covered.

It was just a routine bandage change. He could do it. He knew he could trust Jason… deep down, he did know that. But just like with their conversation in the kitchen that morning, his body was subconsciously reacting.

“Okay.” He held his breath as the door slowly opened and Jason tentatively stepped in. “I have the kit right here.”

Jason gave him a half smile, keeping an eye on Tim as he opened the med kit. If Jason found his sweater placement odd, he kept it to himself.

“Dinner is in the oven. Sorry it took so long, been a while since I made cordon bleu.”

Tim focused on Jason’s voice, trying to keep grounded to the real Jason.

He watched as Jason laid out fresh bandages and ointment.

“I'm going to remove the old ones, okay?” His voice was low. Tim thought it was even a little hesitant. Changing bandages was routine, nothing which required a step by step play. And he wasn't sure if Jason said it for Tim’s benefit or his own.

Jason was so close he could smell the subtle remains of a cigarette along with the herbs he'd used for dinner.

It was slow motion. Tim knew what was going to happen, could feel it coming even before he moved. He watched, seemingly from outside himself, as Jason reached for the old bandage on his shoulder. It was a gentle movement, his hands steady from practice.

The flinch was tiny, a minuscule movement which someone outside their line of work may have missed or passed off as a chill. But Jason saw it. His hand, which was centimeters from touching the gauze, snapped away.

Tim’s heart raced, guilt flooding his veins as Jason lurched backwards. The new bandages were quickly thrown back in the kit, Jason being careful to keep distance between them.

“I'll call Kon for you,” Jason said as he turned around. His bangs could hide his eyes, but not the downturn of his lips.

It wasn’t fair. Jason didn’t deserve… “Wait.” Tim reached out, barely able to grab Jason’s retreating arm. “I'm sorry.”

Jason snorted. “Red, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Tim tugged at Jason’s sleeve, pulling him a step backwards, closer to him, with no resistance.

“Jason…” He stared at his wounded shoulder, waiting until their breaths evened, holding onto Jason like he would run away if he let go. And he just might run, might never come back. If that happened…no, Tim wouldn't let it, wouldn’t let Jason give up, wouldn’t allow the possibility of a relapse.

“You don't have an obligation to me.” There was a puff of air, and Tim didn't need to look to know Jason was blowing at his bangs.

“You're right.” He didn't, not really, and arguing otherwise would be pointless. “Just…” he bit his lip, weakness wasn't easy to share. “Jason, I do trust you.”

“Tim.” The way Jason said his name had Tim snapping his head up to look at him. Jason had turned to look back at Tim, expression blank. “Let go.”

“Don't leave.” Tim pulled his hand away from Jason’s arm, the lack of contact was instantly noticeable.

Jason nodded, “I'm sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair as he turned to the side face the wall. But he didn’t leave.

Tim studied his profile, taking in the tightness of his jaw muscles. “I know.” He sighed. “I trust you. Everyone says I shouldn't, but I do. And I know I’ve said it already, but I forgive you too, I did almost instantly, Jason.”

When Jason turned his head back to face Tim, his eyes were out focus, like he was staring at something a million miles away. Absently, he rubbed at his forearm where Tim had gripped him. “Didn’t The Bat train you better?”

“Stop, Jay.” Tim patted the bed next to him and was greatly relieved when Jason silently took the invitation.

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Tim, wondering how to help Jason. Jason, wondering just how much more fucked up he could become.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tim reached over to the first aid kit. He extended the new bandages to Jason, meeting his eyes in a silent request.

“Tim…” Jason pushed his hand away. “I don’t know how you can stand to have me so close… I…”

“I don’t know what's wrong with me, Jason. Logically I -”

“Logic is bullshit. I see through you, trying to be the good soldier and save me from myself- all to help Bat’s mission. All at the expense of your own self -”

“Fuck off, Jason.” Tim forced the gauze into his hand. “Yes, I want to help you. You were my hero for fuck sake! And being attacked by someone you looked up to kinda fucks with you. So let me deal with my own shit, and patch up my shoulder since it is basically your fault anyway.”

Tim huffed as he finished his outburst. He cringed before looking over to Jason. The second Robin’s mouth was parted as he stared wide eyed at Tim. Well, so much for not embarrassing himself.

Jason doubled over himself, a hoot of laughter echoing through the bedroom. Despite himself, Tim smiled and soon joined in Jason’s infectious laughter. The tension was still there, but it lurked in the corners instead of roaming the room freely.

“Dude. I don't think I've ever heard you swear that much.” Jason wiped at his eyes as he started to wind down. “I was your hero, huh? You have poor taste.”

Tim smiled up at him, “Always have.” He patted Jason’s hand with the bandages. “Ready?”

“Tim.” Jason sobered. “I can’t…”

He couldn’t begin to imagine what his finches did to Jason. Having someone afraid of your touch? Afraid of you… like… like you would beat them? Tim knew a little about Jason’s life before Bruce, it wasn't a stretch to imagine what he went through. A kid alone on the streets? Recipe for disaster.

Tim tilted his head. “Sing to me?”

“What?”

“Your voice is soothing, and the song is familiar. It will help me relax.” He sure hoped.

Jason sighed, “Stubborn bat.”

But he gave in, softly humming as he set out the gauze and tape. As he reached to peel the old bandage, he began the lyrics. Tim was right, he could listen to Jason for hours. He relaxed as Jason worked, letting his deep soft voice wash over him. It was the first time he’d heard the words to the song, and he began to understand how it could be interpreted as both happy, as Jason sang it, and sad, as Alfred did.

“~On the wings of the wind o'er the dark rolling deep  
Angels are coming to watch o'er thy sleep  
Angels are coming to watch over thee  
So list to the wind coming over the sea.~”

Tim cringed at the unexpected burn as Jason cleaned around his stitches. At least he hadn’t popped any out. _Yet_. It was probably a personal record.

“~Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow  
Lean your head over and hear the wind blow ~”

Jason re-wrapped his shoulder tightly with practiced ease.

“~Oh, winds of the night, may your fury be crossed,  
May no one who's dear to our island be lost~”

Jason continued humming as he cleaned up, the lyrics trailing off. “How does it feel? Not too tight?”

Tim tested it, “Perfect. Thank you.” He worked his sweater over his head then stood from the bed. He made note to ask Jason to sing the whole song later.

“Hey?” Jason paused after putting the kit away.

“Hmm?”

“You said the song was familiar?”

Tim swallowed, “Yea.” He reached over with his good arm to squeeze Jason’s shoulder. “Alfred hums the melody. I've never hear the lyrics though. It's a lovely song.”

Jason swallowed, “Alfred?” He blinked rapidly.

Tim smiled gently.

The oven timer dinged, interrupting whatever the moment was becoming. Jason ran the back of his hand over his eyes then silently left the room. Quietly, Tim followed a few steps behind. The smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly, and Jason smiled wide when he peeked into the oven.

“Ready for the most delicious dinner of your life, baby bird?” He slipped on Dick’s bright blue oven mitts and carefully moved the dish to the kitchen island. “Well, at least the best you've had under this roof.”

Tim busied himself by gathering plate and drinks, trying desperately not to picture a little Jason following Alfred around the kitchen. Little Jason, learning to cook in the manor’s kitchen.

They took their plates to the living room. Jason glanced over as Tim took a seat on the couch next to him, so close their shoulders almost touched. It would have been more comfortable to take the chair as he had been, but Tim wanted to show Jason he wasn't afraid of him.

“Tim?”

“Hm?” Tim managed the sound from around his fork. Jason hadn’t lied about it being one of the best meals he’d had.

Jason sat his fork down. “I know this… is hard for you. If it were me in your shoes, I’d hate me. Well, I do hate me now too. So I guess not much would be different. What I mean is. Well-- thank you. Thank you for trying.”

“Jason…” Tim knit his eyebrows.

“Promise me something?”

“What?”  
“Promise me you’ll talk to someone. Like you said, having someone you look up to attack you… it leaves a different sort of scar.”

“Like… therapy? ‘Oh hey doc, so this guy I looked up to came back from the dead and tried to kill me, but he’s actually kinda swell and golly it would be nice if you could fix me so I stopped flinching around him.’ Yea, that would go well.”

“I’m sure the League has someone.” Jason shrugged, knowing full well they did.

“Okay. But only if you go too.”

“If you’re so damned set on helping me, then fine. I’ll play ball.” He picked his fork up again, spearing a bite. “Fuck, why don’t we take the whole Bat clan with us? Demon spawn especially.”

They shared a small laugh at that, though Jason was probably right.

After dinner, Jason began to gear up. He didn’t explain. Didn’t need to. Tim knew the case, knew it as well as Jason. He simply nodded before slipping out the window and into the inky night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was originally going to have a one sided Dick-Dami, I opted for a different approach. I'm not sure how much I'll explore in this fic, but Dami is Ace in this AU :) 
> 
> The song is an Irish folk song called 'The Connemara Cradle Song' 
> 
> I've been having a bit of a dry spell with my writing- please let me know if I missed something/something sounds off/typos ext. I did several read overs, but i'm sure I missed something :)
> 
> Next chapter things get interesting
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful comments and love!! I can't think you enough
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long. I hit a bit of a snag because I had three ideas and I spent a lot of time working through each scenario and I hope you like this one, it isn't as drawn out as the others so it should be more exciting/flow better. 
> 
> (AO3 was acting up when I was trying to post, please let me know if the formatting is messed up)
> 
> Short and late chapter, but I hope the content makes up for it :) 
> 
> Thank you again!

 

**1 week later**  

Jason’s finger dug into Dick’s chest. He knew Dick couldn't feel it through his kevlar; the action was more about letting out his emotions than actually wanting to physically push Dick. Though, putting Dick’s pretty head through the hallway wall would probably feel really good about now.

He'd held his rage back for Tim’s sake, but now he was getting his answers. “You bastard. How long have you known?”

Dick glanced towards the closed door down the hall before staring down at Jason’s hand. His eyebrows pulled together as he worked over what to say. “Jay-”

“Don’t ‘Jay’ me! What the flying fuck?” He stabbed his finger at Dick’s chest as he spoke, punctuating.each word as forcefully as he could.

“You had one job to do: keep Tim from injuring himself further.” Dick glared up at Jason, his eyes meeting Jason’s challenge. And, Jason thought in the back of his mind, watching for any sign of the pit rage. That, more than anything, made his stomach churn. Would Dick ever trust him, or was he always going to view him as a wild beast, unable to control his base emotions.

“Have you ever tried to stop him from going on patrol? Besides, I was already in the middle of a fight! How could I have stopped him?” Jason buried his fingers into his hair, gripping tightly at his head.

“You shouldn't have even been out working a case!”

“That's not the point right now. Sooo beyond it. My soulmate! I tried to kill him- fuck. Dick.” He pulled his hand away from his head to wave it in the space between them. “You had no right to hide this from me. Does Tim even know?”

“He doesn't want to know. He takes great care to keep his arms hidden.” Dick swatted away Jason’s hand. “I hoped I had hidden his arm before you saw…”

“Dick-” Jason turned away with a growl. He took a few steadying breaths. Too much commotion risked waking up Tim. Dick had only given him a mild sedative to keep him under while he patched him up.

When he closed his eyes all he could see was Tim’s unconscious body, his left arm bare where it laid above the covers. The delicate swirls on Tim’s skin took his breath away, identical to his own. It was only a short glimpse before Dick covered it from view, but it was enough. He'd memorized his mark a long time ago; tracing the lines was a soothing action he'd used to calm down countless times.

He reopened his eyes when he heard Dick take a long breath.

Dick squared his shoulders and schooled his features. “You can worry about this shit later. What happened tonight?”

“Stop changing the subject.” Jason rotated around and pulled up his pants leg, showing Dick the ugly green mark on his skin. “This. This horrid thing, is the Joker. The damn Joker. His mark is on me. The worst, most vile, most -- I died-- he killed me.”

Jason turned his back to Dick again, letting his pants leg fall back down. “I confirmed it when I had him as my prisoner. So. That can only mean the one on my arm is my soulmate.”

“Jayce. Calm down.” His voice was calm and low, like he was talking to a dog who may attack at anytime.

“Don't I deserve love? To be happy?” Jason hung his head. He knew he didn’t deserve either of them. It didn't mean he wanted them less.

“Just a few months ago you were trying to kill Tim. You still can't call him by his real name. Or his hero name.” Dick put a comforting hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Let's go sit down and you can brief me on what happened tonight. I need to clean that cut on your forehead too.”

Jason covered his face with his open palms. It was incredible how much had changed over the last week.

“I just used his fucking name!”

He'd used his name every chance he had, to remind Tim -and himself- they could heal, be friends. They’d gotten so close… and even though Tim no longer need Jason’s soothing voice to comfort him during his bandage changes, he still asked Jason to sing. Even when Tim didn’t ask, he’d hum a song softly while he cooked, or while he read over files. The small smile at the corner of Tim’s lips was worth the vulnerability.

“And I apologized for trying to kill him. I've been trying. I- can see how we would work.” Knowing Tim was his soulmate made so much sense, it explained why he was drawn to the younger hero. “Maybe that is what pulled me away from the Lazarus rage. Being close to-”

“Tim doesn’t want to know.” Dick’s voice cut off his rambling. “If you want to care for him, please start by respecting that. An overnight change doesn't erase your past together.”

Jason pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, marveling at the swirling lines. It was so much prettier than the ugly blob on his leg. Complicated.

Everyone had always envied his mark when they caught a quick look at it. He never understood why his was so different, so much more intricate.

But now he did.

It was complex, just like his relationship with Tim. Even by themselves, they were complicated people. Put them together, it would be beautiful chaos.

The need to ask why filled his veins. Why wouldn’t Tim want to know? It was a mystery he would unravel on his own, it wasn’t like he could exactly trust any answer Dick would give.

“I'll be nicer,” Jason said in response to Dick’s statement. “I've already started earning his trust… I'm trying.”

He would try harder. Even if Tim didn’t want love,didn’t want to know they were a match, Jason would be there. As a friend and a mentor. He almost snorted at the thought of him having anything to teach Tim. Okay, a partner then.

Dick sighed behind him. Maybe Jason was right. Maybe the worst part was behind them, and Tim would be happy. “Just… be careful, Jay.”

“I won't tell him. I'll let whatever happens, happen.”  
Why wouldn’t Tim want to know? Jason turned back to the closed door, wanting nothing more than to sit at the edge of the bed and wait for Tim to wake up. To hold his hand while he slept off the pain meds… to run his fingers over his mark, to trace the pattern with reverence.

Dick griped Jason’s shoulder and pulled him back around to face him. “Okay, let's get you cleaned up. That cut on your forehead looks worse than it is, but I still need to clean it.” He poked at Jason’s face

Jason deflated, letting Dick guide him to a chair. When Dick began to prod at his cut, he signed again. “Now. What happened tonight? Full report.”

* * *

 

It was morning when Tim woke. The sun filtered through the curtains, creating patterns of light over the bed. He immediately regretted waking up and wished to fall back into the sweet nothing of sleep.

Not that he didn’t have million things he should do, no, he simply did not wish to face Dick’s wrath.

The door swung open, and speak of the devil. Tim put on his best innocent smile, “How was your mission, Dick?”

“Better than your recovery.”

He sat a fresh glass of water down and handed Tim a few pills. “Jason gave me the details he could. I don’t understand why you felt the need to go out. You could have easily called Cass or Steph or-”

“I know.” Tim downed the pills. Yes, he fucking knew. But it was Jason* who was in trouble. “I was closest. He was just a few blocks away. And pinned down.” He paused, sudden self awareness hitting him before he said his next words. Jason wasn’t just another hero anymore, he wasn’t just a guy he was teamed up with. “I’d do the same if it were you or Bruce.”

Tim swallowed, feeling as if ice water had just been poured over his body. Caring for Dick, Bruce, and even Damian was one thing. For all the times he dove head first to save them, they'd done the safe for him. Would Jason? He rushed in without a second thought to his own well being last night.

Sure, Jason always had his back when they teamed up. But… would Jason ever give him the same unconditional backup if they weren't on the same job? Would he care enough? It wasn’t the first time he'd found himself in a one sided friendship. It didn't make the possibility sting any less.

“Whoa, did I mess up the dosage of your pain meds? You're staring off.”

“No, I'm fine. Just…” Tim shook his head. “Seriously, how was your mission?”

Dick snorted. “B will be back with Dami today. I'm meeting them at the cave soon. It was… interesting.”

“Interesting?” That was usually code for ‘Damian got in over his head and we had to bail him out’.

“Yea.” He hummed a long note. “It was actually Alfred who blew our cover. Knocked some dude out cold. Can't say I blame him, would have done the same really.”

Dick continued to chat away. Tim listened, getting the main details while ignoring the frivolous details Dick liked to add. His mind continued to wander back to Jason.

“Tiiiiiiim.” Dick was inches from his face.

Tim jolted, startled by the close proximity. “Sorry. Replaying last night.”

Dick bought the lie. “I’m heading to the manor to meet B. Can you manage to avoid getting shot or stabbed until I get back?”

Tim shrugged, “Probably.”

Before he left, Dick checked the knife wound above his hip and his re-stitched shoulder. On his way to the door, Jason entered the room. Tim watched their silent conversation with interest. He couldn’t translate the tilt of their heads, or the quirk of eyebrows, but it was probably safe to assume it was about him.

“Hey, Timbo.” Jason’s smile was wide, his features open.

Just a week, Tim reminded himself. Months of working together, and it came down to one week. He'd risked a lot, let himself be vulnerable around Jason with all of his unknown variables.

“Morning.” Tim watched Jason carefully. He filed away his own reactions for further study, knowing he would need to examine his actions the previous night.

“Dickie interrogate you?” He plopped down on the chair and kicked his feet onto the bed.

“No. Barley a lecture… though, I imagine I'll get one from Alfred when I head back to the manor.”

Jason’s laugh held a bitter edge. “Do you think Alfred would lecture me too?”

Tim easily saw through his question, a week or so ago he'd have probably answered it at face value and forgotten all about it. He traced the lines tension around Jason’s eyes, watching them ease as he responded.

“He'd hug the shit out of you first. Then, yea, you'd be in for one hell of a lecture.” He paused, waiting for Jason’s eyes to find his. “You owe me for saving your ass last night.” Tim put on his best smirk to cover his uncertainty. “Come distract Alfred from my injuries?”

Jason swallowed, holding eye contact for a long moment. After a week getting to know Jason personally, without costumes and masks, Tim thought he was getting good at reading him. But he couldn’t translate his current expression. Almost lost, and yet also content. He filed it away with the rest of the of the ‘Jason anomalies’ he'd collected.

“Tim…” Jason finally looked away. “I don’t deserve you.”

What did he say to that? Tim blinked rapidly, trying to find the words to respond. He didn’t need to, Jason was shifting, crossing his ankles as well as his arms.

“One day.” He cleared his throat. “I doubt B would even let me near the manor. Hell, I'm surprised he didn't come rescue you from my evil grasp already.”

“Jason,” Tim sighed his name.

Jason’s foot kicked at his arm under the covers. “I'll just have to owe you one, hm?” He leaned forward before adding, “Come with me when I do go for my overdue Alfred lecture?”

Tim grinned, “Aww, need me to hold your hand?”

Jason looked away, a clear blush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. As much as he wanted to, Tim didn’t tease further. He knew how much Alfred meant to Jason, no way he was going to risk Jason changing his mind over a little bit of teasing.

“Hey, thanks for saving my ass last night. It's… nice to know someone cares enough to have my back.”

“Don’t read too much into it. I need someone to feed me real food.”

Jason gave him a toothy grin. “Guess that means you'll be kicking me to the curb since the Bats are home early.”

“You can't shake me that easily. Though, I probably will pull away from working cases for a while.”

“Can't trust yourself to stay out of costume?”

Tim shrugged, “Essentially. But I do need to focus on school. Steph and Gar wanted me to give it up completely until I graduate.”

“May as well try to take away caffeine too.” Jason snorted loudly at the idea. “Speaking of, I put on a fresh pot.”

Tim gave him a grateful smile. It was almost a routine for them. On the nights Jason went out, he would make a fresh pot before passing out on the couch, knowing Tim would want it when he woke up, if he wasn't already awake -or still awake.

“So,” Jason leaned back once more. “Uh, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“I've wondered for a while,” he tapped at his leg where his Joker mark stained his skin. “I know it's personal… but any theories?”

Tim stayed silent as he thought over his words. It was all too common a question, one he usually shrugged off with a flippant response. But, this was Jason. Jason who was his hero, who was quickly becoming a close friend. Whether it would last now that Dick was back remained to be seen; would they continue their budding friendship off the field or fall back to familiar patterns.

That could wait. Right now, Jason was staring at his ankle, brows knitting more each second Tim was silent.

“I don’t know. It… whoever my arch nemesis wouldn't be someone wishing me ill? Someone who isn't trying to kill me- at least not like yours…”

Jason hummed. “So, you don't think it's someone who wants to kill you?”

Tim shrugged. It was probably wishful thinking. But how could he explain it without revealing his marks were identical?

“So what then? A financial rival or something? Or an academic saboteur?”

“I'm my own saboteur, thanks. Actually…” Huh, he'd never thought of it this way before, “maybe it's someone who encourages me to do stupid shit. Dick is always saying I'm my own worst enemy.”

A sharp laugh rang through the room. “So, B?” He slapped his leg as he doubled over. “He's enabled all of us.”

The laughter was too contagious to not join in. “Hey, it could be Dick. Or Gar- remind me to tell you about what he did at freshman orientation.”

“I just hope it really isn't someone who wants you dead.”

Tim stared down at his arms, “Yea, me too.”

“So, I won't be seeing you around for a few months huh? Unless you get sick of that stuffy manor. You could always crash with me.”

“I'm actually going to stay with the Titans. Closer to campus anyway.” He quickly added, “Thanks for the offer. Maybe I'll take you up on that couch crash next time we're working a case.”

“Rent is one pizza. Hawaiian. I'll also accept extra cheese with onions.” Jason pulled his legs down from the bed. “Annnnyway. Breakfast?”

“Coffee and fruit?”

Jason stuck out his tongue, making an obscene noise. “Need to use up the stuff I bought us, Dick will just let it go to waste. Apple pancakes or chicken and waffles?”

“Why not both?”

“Seriously,” Jason laughed as he stood up. “You’re a bottomless pit.”

He stretched, his shirt rising to reveal a sliver of skin. Tim quickly looked away, berating himself for how much he wanted to stare. No way he was going to let himself fall down that rabbit hole.

Jason, oblivious to Tim’s inner debate relaxed his arms to his sides and turned to leave, waving over his shoulder. “Both it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Anyone catch Dick's slip? Because Jason didn't :3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update :) bit of an interlude. Some more time has past. Last time skip, I promise! We're about 2(ish) chapters from the end. 
> 
> Thank you all for being so supportive while I write this!! Your comments and kudos are keeping me going!

  
  
  


Tim looked to his right without turning his head. It didn't take long to catch Gar’s eyes as he looked between Kon and Tim. He  must have picked up on what Tim was hinting at because he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

 

“Oookay!” Gar stood from his chair, clapping his hands together. “Who wants to go see that new movie with me?”

 

Just an hour ago, Kon had been going on about how excited he was to see it. Yet, the offer went unanswered. He sat stone still, glaring at the wall behind Tim. Tim shifted in his seat, his bruised ribs stretching painfully. There was no outward indication of his pain, but Kon’s fist flexed knowingly. 

 

“You know what?” Gar threw up his arms. “I'm going alone. You're both acting like children.”

 

Kon growled. “Talk some sense into him!”

 

“Enough! I'm cleared for patrol. I agreed to take it easy until my ribs heal! Maybe if someone had my back last night I wouldn’t be nursing them! What more do you want?” Tim looked away, ashamed of his outburst. He didn’t want to lose Kon’s friendship forever, but it was looking more and more like it could happen. Gar too, though he was much gentler in his disapproval of Jason.

 

Gar came to stand between them, facing Tim with a tired expression. “We want you to use your head.”

 

Tim stood and was unable to look at either of his friends. “I am using my head. I didn’t have to tell you _why_  I was returning to Gotham. But I did because you're my friends. Jason is my friend, he deserves more than your unsubstantiated hatred.”

 

“Unsubstantiated? Tim!” 

 

“I'm with Kon… I don't trust him.”

 

“Then trust _me_.” Tim left the common room without looking back.

 

He wasn't scheduled to leave for Gotham for another three days, but arriving early wouldn't be so bad. With any luck, he could join Batman on patrol for some good ol’ nostalgia before Jason finished what he was currently working on. Either way, he needed to get out of the Titan’s tower before he said something he would regret. 

  
  


 

* * *

 

Jason’s fist collided over and over with his target. The bag swayed precariously as he pulled away before snapping and falling to the old wood floor. He wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead and kicked his makeshift punching bag. The rags he’d stuffed it with protruded from the top seams, but it would be easy enough to restitch when he had the time.

 

“You know,” the drawl came from behind him, “the manor has actual equipment.”

 

Jason kept his back to Dick. “Yea, well, that doesn't help me, does it?”

 

“Only because you don't want to face B. You're welcome anytime.” He stalked around Jason, ignoring his personal space. “In fact, we're having a full Bat Clan dinner in three days. You're invited.” 

 

Jason met Dick’s gaze, not backing up despite that being the only thing he wanted to do. “Can't. I have plans.” 

 

Dick snorted then turned away. “Tim’s coming.”

 

“Get out.” Jason retreated to the far table, taking strength from the guns laid out before him. 

 

The exercise with the punching bag had not curbed his anger, and he itched to hit something else. Perhaps Dick’s face. Where did he get off using Tim against him? For someone who’d been wholly against Jason even pursuing a relationship with Tim, Dick sure had a lot of nerve. Besides, he would see Tim in a few days anyway when they teamed up to work a case. 

 

“Jason,” Dick was half out the window,” if you intend keeping a relationship with Tim -friends or otherwise- you’ll need to make up with B at some point.”

 

He was gone before the clip left Jason’s hand. It skid across the floor, the sound far too loud for the small space. Jason ignored his failed punching bag on his way to retrieve the clip, and focused on checking it over for damage on his way back to the table. 

 

The sun would be up soon, putting an end to any thoughts of finishing his current job before heading to his safe house. The gear on the table fit neatly under the floorboards, an insurance in case anyone tried to squat in the flat while he was out. This flat sort of worked as a go-between his two main safehouses, a central location he could duck into if injured or working local. It was a dump, peeling ceilings and scratched floors- but it was his dump. 

 

Jason was proud of the safe houses he currently had. They were nothing near as luxurious as the ones he used when he was trying to control the streets, but they were earned without blood money and that made them that much more precious. 

 

It was his apartment on the East side of town where he planned to meet Tim in a few short days. Like his other one, it was only one bedroom, but this one was in a nice neighborhood and he treated it more of a home than just a hideout. His few personal belongings were stored there- his favorite blankets and cooking supplies, but more importantly: his wardrobe. And he certainly planned to look good while Tim was visiting. He’d even planned his outfit for their undercover job next week, taking great pains to _not_  look like he was trying. Long sleeves, of course- couldn’t have Tim finding out… he wanted to tell him himself. Though, finding a way to was proving difficult. 

 

The night’s failed mission had him on edge, and he knew before he even swung open his apartment door he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Which wasn’t quite a bad thing, he still needed to clean his place before Tim arrived and make some ready-meals for them. And shit-- he still hadn’t gone grocery shopping. There was something else he’d need to do before he could sleep. 

 

Everything needed to be perfect. 

 

Jason was too busy planning just _how_ to make it perfect to notice the figure standing in his kitchen. It wasn’t until he heard the fridge open that Jason jumped around, gun drawn and trained on the backside of the man rooting around his fridge. 

 

“How do you live with just mustard and deli meat? I didn’t even see any bread!” 

 

“Tim.” Jason put his gun away with relief and stepped into his kitchen. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“You actually had the nerve to complain about Dick’s kitchen.” He shook his head, a lopsided grin on his face. 

 

“I haven’t gone shopping yet.” Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, my place is still a mess. You should have called.” 

 

Tim shrugged. “Decided last minute to come early. If a few books lying around is ‘a mess’ I’d sure hate for you to see my place.” 

 

Having Tim in front of him was all he’d wished for the last few months. Emails and phone calls just were not the same. Jason ran his tongue along his dry lips. “You look…” -handsome, amazing, more than I deserve- “better.” 

 

“I told you my shoulder healed. I’d hope so after so many months.” Tim cocked his head to the side, “You look like you had a rough night.” 

 

He must look like shit. Straight from a fight and covered in grime, so much for looking good. “Lost the boss I was after.”

 

“Shit, you were working on that for weeks!” Tim stepped closer, close enough so he could pull the helmet from Jason’s hand and set it on the kitchen island. “Why don’t you go shower and I’ll run to the store? Can’t exactly work a case on an empty stomach.” 

 

“I’ll shop.” Jason closed his eyes against the onslaught of images of Tim joining him in the shower. That was something a long ways off, if it ever did happen-- which it might, he told himself. Talking about various  cases the last few months kept him reassured Tim hadn’t fallen back into disliking him. And when he’d readily agreed to come help him with a case he’d been gathering intel on, Jason nearly whooped with joy. “Make yourself at home.” 

 

“I’m coming shopping with you. No point in you doing all of it.” Tim gave him a toothy grin before adding: “I already made myself at home.” 

 

And as Jason made his way to the bathroom, he took note of Tim’s computer and multiple monitors already set up in the living room. His jacket was tossed in the chair and it looked like he already made a nest on the couch. “Yea, I’m afraid to see what your place is like.” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Tim, “You can have the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

 

“I’ll be out here anyway working.” Tim looked over to his computer setup. “Now go- you reek!” 

 

“Fine- fine.” Jason waved him off. “Not sure what good you being here early will do, I’m behind schedule on my current case thanks to that fat slob getting away tonight.”

 

“I’ll find something to do. It’s not like the scammer is going to go anywhere unless he gets spooked. I could help you with that fat slob.”

 

Jason laughed from down the hall, hoping Tim could hear him. “I may take you up on that.” He pushed into his bathroom, trying to focus on where that mob boss would have gone off to and not on his friend in the living room. Because Tim was far more than a friend. He was his soulmate. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiii! It's been a while. Longer than a while. Forever even. And eternity.
> 
> I've just sorta... fallen out of love with writing this ship for some reason? Which is weird because I adore it.
> 
> This last chapter is admittedly 'meh'. It's a few varied scenes, not as detailed as normal :-/

Shopping together, Jason decided, was a terrible idea wrapped up in a wonderful experience . It was oddly intimate to walk through the produce section of the grocery store with Tim, picking out ripe fruits and sneaking a few grapes. Tim was at ease, joking about various things as he tossed items into their cart. And for a moment, Jason let himself believe this would be normal, a weekly routine they would do together. That he could pull his soulmate close while in a deserted aisle and never let go.

But reality had a way of crushing such dreams.

Though, he would have liked to hold this one a while longer.

“No, get the smaller one,” Tim said, half distracted by the selection of ground beef in front of him. “I'll only be in town ‘till the end of your case. No need to get the larger one. Well, unless you plan on keeping a healthy diet when I leave.”

Right. Tim was just visiting, staying with him instead of at the manor simply out of convenience. He kept the larger pack of chicken breasts out of spite.

“Hey, I cook when I have the time,” Jason said instead of what he wanted to. “I just don't often slow down enough.”

Tim snorted, not looking up. “That's why your goon got away.”

Jason leveled a glare his way. “What, think you can do better?”

A cheeky grin flashed his way, stopping any thoughts Jason had. “You know I can.”

Smug bastard. And he'd have his soulmate no other way. He pushed the cart towards the dairy section, leaving Tim to fret over the best choices of beef.

Jason hadn’t realized how suffocating Tim’s presence was until he was standing alone in front of the milk case. Now he could breath. A few moments alone without watching every small movement Tim made, without searching for deeper meaning in his words- would working together be this distracting too? Would be spend more time worrying about Tim than the tasks at hand?

Maybe he should talk to Tim about it after all. Get it out in the open before he made a mistake. Before Tim found out he’d hidden this knowledge. Before Tim found someone else. But then, _Ti_ _m didn’t want to know_.

Years of training prevented Tim’s silent approach from surprising him.

“Will you be joining us at the manor?” The heavy words were said casually as Tim rejoined him with two packets of ground beef and and two nicely marbled steaks.

“Tim.” Jason kept his gaze on the wall of yogurt.

“You don’t have to.” Tim tapped his fingers against the side of the cart. “I understand. But if you want to… Alfred and I will be there for you.”

Not even Dick sunk low enough to bring up Alfred. Fucking _Tim Drake_.

He made his selection and added the yogurt to the cart. When he looked up, Tim was already several feet ahead checking cartons of eggs.

 

* * *

 

 

The dinner invitation wasn’t mentioned again that night while they poured over Jason’s current case.

Tim didn’t bring it up the next morning either. Or that night when they returned from staking out on opposite sides of the city.

“You don’t have to help me with this,” Jason had insisted again as Tim laid out his data points on his map.

“This would be easier if you'd let me use my program.” Tim put another thumbtack into the map, ignoring Jason’s comment. Just like he'd ignored it that afternoon, before they left Jason’s apartment.

Jason just grumbled and read over the data; tracking down his wayward gang leader was turning out to be more of a pain in the ass than he originally thought. Hours spent on the streets turned up nothing, not even a sighting of one of his low level pushers.

They worked quietly into the morning; Tim poring over the surveillance footage he pulled while Jason retraced their previous movements. He should thank Tim for his help- but that may be a little too out of character. While they worked, Jason could not help noting Tim didn’t once mention dinner at the manor.

 

When the sun was well above the horizon, they argued over sleeping arrangements. Tim refused to take the bed, insisting the couch was more than enough and that he’d be up for several more hours anyway. Reluctantly, Jason agreed- but the image of Tim in his bed wouldn't leave his head.

Jason snuck out the next day before Tim woke up. His eyes may have lingered on his lithe form on the couch for a few moments, but he forced himself to move. It was his fuck up, his case, his problem to solve. And Tim’s help was appreciated, but he still had a reputation.  
The stunt earned him a slew of angry texts, but he just grinned and replied to most with a smiley face.

It was his fuck up- he would bring the goon in by himself. No reason to waste Tim’s time.

When he returned late that afternoon, Tim was gone.

 

* * *

 

“It is a shame Master Jason declined our invitation.” Alfred’s back was normally rigid with his impeccable posture. But, Tim didn’t need to look again to know his shoulders were still tense as he tidied up the kitchen. “Would you mind taking him some leftovers?”

Tim knew the request was coming. The first thing Alfred had done after dinner was to set aside a portion of the roast. While Damian and Dick eagerly followed Bruce down to the cave, Tim remained with Alfred in the kitchen, sitting in the breakfast booth while Alfred busied himself.

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.” He would take it, for Alfred’s sake, but it was going into the first dumpster he passed on the way back to Jason’s apartment. Or maybe he’d just eat it himself.

“It is good to see you two working together.” Alfred placed a cup of tea on the table and slid into the booth opposite Tim. “How is he?”

Some of the tension released from his shoulders as the question left his lips. The question he wouldn’t ask in front of Bruce, and couldn’t ask Dick or Damian. Only Tim spent enough time with their wayward bird to offer Alfred a real picture of Jason. A narrative Bruce’s surveillance couldn’t answer fully.

Tim mulled over his words, tapping his finger ever so slightly on the table. How _was_  Jason? Really? “He’s better.”

Tim took a deep breath and forced his unease out with it. Bruce wasn’t here, nor was Dick or Damian. They wouldn't be back from patrol for hours. “Better,” He stated again. “And different.”

“Different?” Alfred sipped at his tea.

“From how I pictured him,” Tim explained. “He’s not the grand hero I’d concocted from watching him as Robin, or the perfect honorable son Bruce led me to believe for all those years.” His tips twitched, “He’s _Jason_.”

Sensing it wasn’t enough for Alfred, he continued, hoping to ease the man’s mind. “The rage has left him- well, the rage caused by the pit. He’s still angry at the world.”

“He always was. Has every right to be.”

“He’s kind too. Outside of a fight, the bravado is only an act, isn’t it?”

Alfred nodded.

Tim shrugged. “I’d call him a friend, but I think he’d kick me off our current case and bar me from helping with anything in the future. But… he is. A friend.”

“He needs a friend like you.”

The silence stretched again, this time less oppressive.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Tim left, Jason’s left leg was cramped from holding his position in the pantry. Though Tim had spoken of Alfred before, Jason never had the impression they were close enough for such a heart to heart. Unfortunately, his hiding place wasn’t within earshot of the dining hall- so he may have to pull information about B from Tim later.

For all his antics as a kid, he’d never been very good at getting the jump on Alfred. Apparently, he still lacked the skill. The older man’s back was towards him when he tiptoed from his hiding place, and after just two steps he sighed.

“Master Jason.”

Jason stopped, unsure how to respond. He hadn’t exactly planned his little home invasion. It was more of an impulsive ‘why not’. “Uh, hey Alfred.”

Alfred turned, taking his time to stare Jason up and down. “I trust you are eating well.”

“Well enough.” Jason swallowed and allowed his feet to take him to Alfred. Hugging him had always been a comfort, and it still was. Alfred returned the embrace without hesitation, tightly holding Jason to him.

“You are welcome here anytime, Jason. This is still your home.”

“Alfred.” Jason held him tighter.

 

* * *

 

 

Well. It could have gone worse. Though, things didn’t get much worse than a surprise meta attack in Gotham. Tim would later joke about Jason missing that important bit of information about this case. At least Kon was able to join them quickly, and the commotion brought Bruce and Damian in as well. Who needed comms or a bat signal when an explosion worked just as well?

Tim lost sight of Jason as he ran towards the closing warehouse garage. Their target was on the run and he wasn’t about to let the whole mess of a mission be for nothing. It was half way shut when an impact to his side sent him reeling forward to his knees. He clutched at the wound, wincing as he felt his own blood. The pain took a few seconds, searing along his side as he pulled himself back up. He forced himself through the pain, continuing towards the door at a slower pace. Too slow.

“TIM!” Jason appeared at his side, red helmet still secure. He scooped Tim into his arms, “Keep pressure on it.”

As Jason carried him towards the nearly closed door, Tim looked around. Kon was holding his own against the meta as Batman and Robin held off the goons.

When they got a few feet from the door, Jason leaned down, and tossed Tim through the narrow opening. The rain had picked up, and the mud which splashed under the garage opening eased Tim’s back. He watched as Jason slid through the mud, leaning his torso back as the door closed solidly behind him.

The pain in his side was spreading and he fought against the urge to close his eyes. “Sorry.” He managed to breath out as Jason ran to his side. “Go get the lead-”

“Shut up,” Jason’s voice teetered on dangerous. He pulled away the ripped fabric at Tim’s side. “Fuck. We need to get you to the cave.”

Jason pushed Tim’s hand harder into his side. “Keep the pressure.” He pulled out his knife, reaching for his pants. “Fuck this mud.”

Tim groaned, trying to sit up. “Jay.”

The sound of the rain fell away into the background. Trying not to panic, he focused on Jason who was talking on the coms. The words fell away, not quite making it to his ears.

Jason shrugged off his jacket, positioning it under Tim to keep the wound off the muddy ground. He then took the knife to his sleeve, cutting the cleaner fabric away. Tim watched Jason’s face, following drops of rain as they rolled down his face.

With practiced ease, Jason wrapped the fabric around Tim’s torso, keeping it tight on the wound. Tim watched Jason’s face contort, his eyebrows creasing and his lip raising in a sneer. His lips moved, but again the words fell away into the rain. Tim knew he should keep his eyes open, but the strength to do so eluded him.

He let his eyes fall away from Jason’s face. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the intricate swirls along Jason’s exposed arm.

 

* * *

 

 

**Epilogue** \- three months later

Jason tossed his keys onto the table and made a beeline to his fridge. A cold beer would do wonders on such a hot day. That was the thing about Florida, it as almost always hot for someone used to the cold gloom of Gotham.

He popped off the cap, letting it fall to into the trashcan. With the glass raised in a self toast he muttered, “To another drug lord out of business.”

“So, that’s three since you’ve been here?”

The soft voice startled him at first. “Tim?” Then he tensed up again, because _Tim_.

Tim sat perched on the back of the couch, his legs dangling off the back. He cocked his head to the side. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t.” Jason was thankful he already had a beer in his hand.

Tim raised and eyebrow. “Right. If you don’t want me around, that’s… cool I guess. I did kinda mess up that last mission back in Gotham. But straight up ignoring me is pretty rude.”

The fake nonchalance was eerie when it was directed at him. “Look, Tim. That’s not- it’s not- it’s just better like this, okay?”

An eyebrow almost broke character, but Tim reeled it back in. “Better how?”

“Just is.”

“So, it is because of the warehouse?” Tim continued to stare at him, following every move as he walked towards him.

Jason stretched out his arms, just wanting the interrogation to end. “Yes! Okay.”  
“Oh.” This time Tim didn’t attempt to keep character. He looked away, biting at his top lip.

“Augh!” Jason cursed under his breath. “Not- not because of that… Tim. It was my fault. You almost died again helping me!”

Tim snapped his eyes back to Jason’s.

“And I-- I- shit.” He ran his free hand through his hair as he chugged his beer.

“That tends to happen in our line of work.” Tim sighed, “Jay. You weren't even there when I woke up. Just… gone. Dami said you’d gone after the leader but…”

“I don’t do well in the cave, Tim. And I trusted B to take good care of you.” Jason leaned against the back of the couch a few inches from Tim, absently picking that the label of his beer.

“You ignored all of my calls, texts. Just… ignored _me_.”

“The fuck does that bother you so much?” So much for putting distance between them. For not having to watch Tim fall for someone and…yea. He idly rubbed at the soul mark on his arm

“Because, I thought… I thought we were friends.” Tim shifted, turning slightly away. “Look, Jason… I need to tell you something.”

Jason perked up, usually Tim just _told_ you. “Yea?”

“Remember that first time I was shot? And you helped babysit me for Dick?”

“Yea?”

“And you asked about soulmates and marks… I wasn’t exactly… honest with you.” Tim took a deep breath. “You know how most people have two? One for your worst enemy and one for your soulmate? I only have one.”

Tim swallowed. “And I didn’t know what that meant for the longest time. But I think I do now.”

“Just one?” Jason now regretted his beer as his stomach churned. “Why are you telling me this?”

Tim continued looking away towards the door as he rolled up his sleeve, letting Jason see his soul mark. “Jay… when you used your sleeve...”

Jason held his breath as Tim turned back to look at him.

“You’re… not surprised.”  
“I’m... I saw a glimpse of it the night after you came to rescue my sorry ass. Dick stitched you back up.” He looked back at Tim’s mark and rolled up his own sleeve. “You just have one.”

Tim nodded.

“I’m both. See. This is why. This. I thought I was being selfish or something by trying to let you live your life- but this. You’re better without me. What if I turn again? Try to- to-”

“Jay.” Tim shook his head. “I think… it’s more… this lifestyle. I found it because of you. So, you’re both? And you have your enemy mark… so only your soul mark matches me.”

“What happens now?”

Tim reached out to trace a finger along Jason’s mark. “Let’s start with you helping me with my case here in Miami. And we just… figure it out as we go. And if we decide to stay just friends, then we leave it at that. But no more cutting me out of your life.”

“And if we both want more?”

Tim shrugged. “Then we have more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the ending isn't too open? Having them kiss at this point would be a bit of a reach. I imagine probably another year and they're comfortable sitting on the couch after a mission and just sorta lean in.
> 
> Thank you for reading and sticking with this trash fic!


End file.
